Cautionary Tales
by JudeDeluca
Summary: Set circa 1930s/Toonverse. Faerie tales converge with real life, and in an alternate world, the three who would have been the founders of the Legion are now living fables that have become too real. LL/SG, Cosmic Boy/Night Girl, and more. Features the LSV.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own Legion of Super-Heroes. They are owned by DC Comics.

While I'm working on my main fic, this idea came to me after reading 1000GreenSun's Arabian Nights fic. This is taking three faerie tales, two which people would know well enough, and another whose name escapes me, but one I had read about in elementary school, and changing them around to center around Cosmic Boy, Lightning Lad, and Saturn Girl, and their counterparts in the Legion of Super-Villains, Lightning Lord, Saturn Queen, and Cosmic King. The latter two most of you might not be familiar with, but you can look them up. Other Legionnaires will be featured, and the three stories are linked together. Names have been changed to better accommodate the era, although I've never met anyone named Lavar. It takes place in 1930s America, during the Depression era. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

Cautionary Tales: _Prologue_

Once upon a time, there were three friends who attended the same college during the 1920s. They were Michael Raines, Lavar John Bolton, and Eve Aries.

Michael came from a well-to-do farming family that lived in Virginia, with a younger brother named Garth and another sibling on the way. Lavar worked his way into school from a poor family in the South. And Eve was a beautiful redhead who came from money, specifically money gained from a weapons manufacturing company owned by her father in Manhattan, Titan Arms.

The three had met on their first day, in a philosophy class that they had each signed up for, and they got along wonderfully. They studied together, eat lunch together, went to parties together. They were truly inseparable.

Now, on the surface, the average person would see a group of friends. Nothing out of the ordinary. But it was more than chance that brought these three together. They saw what was inside each other. They saw past their own facades and saw the awful blackness inside their hearts. They were cruel and spiteful. Michael was lazy and cruel, and incapable of thinking beyond his own needs. Lavar was greedy and felt that the world was out to get him. And Eve was vain and jealous of girls prettier than her. Things happened to the people who opposed them. And the worst part is, no one ever knew the truth.

But, as they finished college, and went their seperate ways, a few people would see through their masks. Neighbors, children, siblings. And Michael, Lavar, and Eve would soon learn some all too unfortunate lessons about their dark sides.

Next: _The Lantern_


	2. The Lantern

Disclaimer: I do not own Legion of Super-Heroes.

The following story is centered around Cosmic King, Cosmic Boy, and Night Girl, in a variation of the Irish folktale about jack-o'-lanterns, in accordance with the approaching Halloween. Cosmic Boy's name has been changed to Richard "Rocky" Krane from Rokk Krinn, and Night Girl's name has been changed to Lydia Jefferson from Lydda Jath. Colossal Boy's name has been changed form Gim Allon to Jim Allen. Most of the events in this chapter happen concurrently or in-between the next one, so if you feel the interaction between the characters feels rushed, it might make more sense in the next chapter. Some of the events in this story have been inspired from the comic _Jack of Fables _by Bill Willingham.

And thanks to those who reviewed. And I honestly hope I don't offend anyone with a joke I put in at the end. I hope the whole thing isn't too corny, or if the blushing is overdone, but I haven't had a proper night's sleep in a while, so...

**Cosmic Boy**: Rokk Krinn of the planet Braal. Magnetic powers. One of the three founders of the Legion.  
**Night Girl**: Lydda Jath of the planet Kathoon. Super-strength activated in darkness. Helped found the Legion of Substitute Heroes. Later became a member of the Legion.  
**Cosmic King**: Laevar Bolto of the planet Venus. Gained transmutative abilities from a ray he designed. One of the three founders of the Legion of Super-Villains. Was exiled from his home planet Venus for having such abilities.  
**The Time Trapper**: A mysterious being who lives at the end of time, and has constantly been a thorn in the Legion's side.  
**The Fatal Five**: Five of the deadliest criminals the 31st Century have ever known, banded together. They are the Persuader, Mano, Tharok, Validus, and the Emerald Empress. At one point, two of their members were replaced by Caress and Flare.  


* * *

Cautionary Tales: _The Lantern_

_Then_

The October sky high above was now turning gold as the blazing red sun started to set in the country horizon. Michael, Lavar, and Eve had set off for a Halloween party when their Model T had suddenly decided to break down in the middle of a country road.

Lavar had been examining the engine, but mechanics were not his forte and he was stumped as what to do. Eve was impatient and trying to check her makeup in her pocket mirror, and Michael was just lounging in the back of the car, not being any help at all.

Lavar closed the hood and shook his head. He turned to Eve and said "no good. We're stuck here."

Eve fumed. "Just wonderful. Not only are we going to miss the party but now we're stuck in the middle of nowhere." She turned to her mirror. "And worst of all I can't check my makeup in this light." She frowned.

"Careful Eve. Show a little bit of emotion and your face might crack." Michael joked. Lavar laughed a little and Eve glared at him. She than glared at Michael. "At least do something constructive, Michael." "I am", he defended himself, "I'm thinking of how we're gonna get to that party. "Don't overdo it." Eve sarcastically smiled.

"We passed a filling station a while back. We should head there and get a mechanic." Lavar suggested. "Good thinking, fearless leader." Michael said. "Oh no. I am not walking down to a disgusting filling station in _heels _Lavar." Eve told him. "I'm not getting my dress dirty, I ordered it from a boutique in Paris." Eve motioned to her blue and white dress with the white gloves and shawl. It was indeed lovely, and very expensive. But when you had money like Eve, cost was no object.

Michael groaned. "We know, Eve, you keep telling

us." "Well it's true." "Okay, enough" Lavar broke the tension. "Eve, you and Michael can stay if you want, but I'm walking down to that mechanic before it gets any darker."

Lavar started to walk down the road, but he heard Eve sigh and said "wait, I'll come with you." As much as the prospect of getting her dress dirty terrified her, the thought of her make-up getting ruined scared her more.

"I'll just stay here and look after the car" Michael called out to the two as they left.

So Lavar and Eve made their way down the road towards the filling station they had passed. As they did, the sky had started to grow darker. Eve was fretting more and more about her face while Lavar could only laugh inwardly at his friend's constant vanity.

Upon finally reaching the aforementioned station, the two discovered that there were also a few other stores nearby, including an old barbershop and an antique store. Lavar and Eve were confused as to why anyway would put an antique store in the middle of nowhere.

Eve decided that she would check out the store for possibly a bathroom to check her lipstick, and Lavar told her not to take long. He walked into the filling station, decorated for Halloween with a hallowed out pumpkin with a grinning smile in the window and a few paper bats on the window.

"Hello?" Lavar asked inside. "Anyone here?"

"In here!" was the reply he got. Lavar followed the voice into the garage, to find two men working on some old contraption. One of them was inspecting something under the hood when he closed it to get a look at Lavar.

"What you needing?" Lavar replied "Well my car broke down and my friends and I are pretty much stranded. Could you-?" "I gotta finish this up first." The mechanic replied. "But you don't understand, my friends and I-" 'I _said_, I gotta finish this first." The mechanic was insistent. Lavar sighed.

"Help."

Lavar looked up. "What did you say?" The mechanic looked at him, "Didn't say anything." Lavar looked at the other one. "Did he say it?" "Say what?" the second mechanic spoke up. "I could've sworn I heard-"

"Help!"

There it was again. It was faint, but it sounded like it was coming from outside. Could it have been Eve? No, the voice sounded male. Michael? No, it didn't sound like him.

"HELP!"

Lavar exited the garage, getting strange looks from the two mechanics. He looked around, and saw behind the garage something in the field. He could still hear the voice crying out for help, and realized that it must have been coming from there.

"What's this?" Lavar asked. He cautiously walked closer to get a better look at the sight in the horizon. There was an old tree, devoid of any leaves on its crooked branches, in the field. There were two things strange about the tree. It was surrounded by old crosses. And there was a man sitting on the branches.

"I say, you! There! Come here!" the man in the tree called to Lavar. Intrigued, he came closer to get a better look at the prisoner of the tree. Lavar couldn't see the man's face, because it was shadowed by the hood of the long maroon cloak the man was wearing. His hands, holding onto the branch he was sitting on for support, were old and wrapped in bandages. Yet the man's voice sounded young and spry.

"What the blazes are you doing up in that tree, sir?" Lavar asked.

"Some old woman and her friends managed to chase me up here. An old woman! Can you believe it?"

"What's your name?"

"Oh how rude of me", the man in the tree said. "Trapper. Mr. Ty M. Trapper. I'd shake your hand, but as you can see..." Lavar nodded in understanding, but he was still confused. "Why can't you climb down? Are you too tired?"

"Too tired? Too tired?! Why, I could outrun the fastest man alive! It's these damn crosses that are keeping me up here. If you could remove just a few to clear a path for me, I'd be able to get down. I have a lot of work to do tonight and I would be eternally grateful, Lavar."

Lavar's eyes widened, then they narrowed suspiciously. "How do you know my name, Mr. Trapper, was it?" Trapper chuckled at Lavar's question. His laugh sent a shiver down Lavar's spine. "Oh I know you, Lavar. And I know what you'd like in return for helping me." Trapper reached into his robe and pulled out a wad of crisp thousand dollar bills.

"Money. And I can promise you lots of it." There was something in his voice that made the gears click in Lavar's head, and then he knew who this man really was. "Can you really promise me that, Mr. Trapper, or should I call you by your _real_ name?" "If you want. But get me down and I can offer you wealth beyond your wildest dreams for the rest of your life."

Lavar questioned "I really don't see why you would have any reason to keep your end of the bargain. You could just kill me right after I clear the way."

"Smart boy. I like that. How about this. You have my word that I will not kill you after you let me down."

Lavar put his hand to his face as he thought. "But that wouldn't mean you would give me all the wealth I could want. For all I know that could just be a bunch of one dollar bills and only one thousand."

"Shrewed boy." Trapper growled from up in the tree. He reached back into his robe and this time he pulled out a diamond the size of a lightning fixture. Lavar's jaw dropped. Trapper chuckled again as Lavar re-composed himself with the would-be stature of a businessman.

"That could very well turn into a glass paperweight the minute you hand it over to me. And besides, the way I see it, everyone would be better off if you were just left up there. Give me one solid reason why I should help."

"Because I can smell how badly you want to believe I'm the person you're thinking about. And let's face it. You're a very greedy boy, Lavar. Always have been. And I know what you did to get the money for that school, Lavar, or would _you _prefer it if I called you by _your_ real name, Jack B. Quick."

For a moment, it feels as if his heart has stopped, as if the world has suddenly come crashing down like a burning building. Indeed, Lavar had hoped to forget about that name.

His family had once been one of the richest families in the South, the Boltons. Land as far as the eye could see and a never-ending well of money. But then the Civil War happened, the South lost, and the Boltons lost all the money they had invested in the Confederacy forces. They were now forced to wander through the states in abject poverty, doing whatever they could to make a living as their Southern heritage all but disappeared from their faces and their voices.

Lavar was never given anything in his life, even when he was a baby. No, according to his parents, only the naive wait to be given what the need. But Boltons, now they take what they want. What Lavar wanted was an education. And rather study and wait to be given the money to pay for it, he went out and took it from people who already had it. After a couple of years, stealing from homes, stores, banks, he had enough for school. He even gained a nickname. Jack B. Quick. Jack. John. Same difference. But while the thieving was over, the greed was still there. It grew worse as time went on. And Lavar didn't know what to do about it. Until now.

"Do we have a deal?" Trapper asked. Lavar turned his head back up to the tree.

"... so let's say I _do_ help you down, you _don't_kill me, and I get as much wealth as I want. I still have one problem." "Really? And what would that be?" "Sooner or later," Lavar explained, "I'm going to wind up in the same place as you thanks to my greed."

Trapper was intrigued. "I have to admit, you are one of the few people who've ever stopped to think and realize where these kind of deals will lead. Very well. Here is my final offer." Trapper cleared his throat as he started to air out the details of their business transgression.

"In exchange for helping me down from this crucifix-infested jail, I will agree to spare your miserable life, as well as offer you years of unlimited wealth and bar you from ever setting foot in my domain when your life's candle snuff out."

"And since I wouldn't be allowed there, I'd have only one other place to go!" Lavar was now excited. "Exactly." Trapper told him. "Deal?" "Deal." Lavar replied.

After happily removing some of the crosses littered around the tree trunk, Trapper hopped off the branch and landed on the ground below. Now that he was right in front of Lavar, he noticed that Trapper was much taller than him, almost like a giant.

Trapper stretched his arms and sighed in relief. "Ah, that feels so much better you wouldn't believe. Now, shall we shake." Trapper spit in his right hand and than offered it to Lavar as a symbol that their deal was closed. Lavar, a bit repulsed a first, shook. As Lavar took his hand away, he noticed he now had a nickel in his hand.

"Is this it?" Lavar asked in disbelief.

"Hmm? Oh of course not. That's merely the tip for the telegram girl." Lavar was confused.

"Tomorrow afternoon as you are discussing your last class of the day with those two... friends, of yours, you'll get a telegram stating that a long-lost uncle you never met just died of heart complications, and that in a freak turn of events the rest of his heirs have died due to medical complications or natural incidents, making you the inheritor of a fortune in gold he mined in the Yukon. Then after that you'll receive word that you've just won the lottery for 50,000 dollars. When you place that money in the First National Bank, a teller will be inebriated the following day, and accidentally transfer the contents of the accounts of the two richest men of the city into yours. And after that it will only be a matter of time..."

"Matter of time until-?" Lavar looked up from his hand and discovered that Trapper was gone. Vanished into thin air as the sky above was starting to be filled with stars as night set in. A few minutes later, contemplating what happened, Lavar walked back to see if the mechanic was there and if Eve had found anything in that antique shop to quell her concerns.

_Now_

Years had passed since that fateful evening. The 20s were dead and the 30s were well on their way for being synonymous with 'poverty' after that Stock Market Crash happened. Thankfully, Lavar never had to worry about that.

True to Trapper's words, Lavar enjoyed the last few years in total wealth thanks to a very fortunate series of "coincidences" in his favor. Of course, what Trapper didn't mention is that the men whose money Lavar had gained had killed themselves shortly after. The first one, Doyle something or other, jumped in front a train. The second one, whose name Lavar couldn't remember, had drank himself to death.

He hadn't seen much of Michael or Eve since graduation. Michael had moved back to his farm, and Eve had married into money. She was actually living in Manhattan as well, but supposedly she had to deal with some step-daughter left over from her previous marriage. Maybe he would ring her up one day.

He was now living in a gorgeous penthouse apartment, with maids and butlers to tend to his every whim. He wore the finest clothes, ate nothing but the best food, and had his pick of any woman he wanted. And if that wasn't enough, he had paradise to look forward once his end came. But, hey, the life he had now, it _was _paradise. And it was all thanks to that fateful evening on Halloween. Of course, Lavar never mentioned it to anyone. They'd think he was crazy. But, if he gave all his money away, he'd get more tomorrow.

It was the beginning of the evening of October 30th and Lavar was heading out to dinner. He inspected his face in the mirror of the bathroom, his neatly trimmed black hair, steel grey eyes, and neatly trimmed beard were all perfect. Lavar smirked at his reflection and thought _I'm king of the world_.

As he started out for the front door, he stopped when he noticed the clock on the wall had stopped. He looked at the maid who was walking down the hall, Chi Tsan. "Chi! Get over here!" She looked startled at the request and walked over to Lavar. "Yes, Mr. Bolton?" "I thought I told you to wind up this clock." "I-I'm sorry sir, I'll do it right now." "See that you do. And I'm docking you half a day's pay." Chi gaped. "B-but Mr. Bolton, you barely, I mean-" Lavar cut her off. "I will not pay my servants to laze around. You're lucky I pay you and your family enough as I do. Is that clear?" "Oh but Mr. Bolton." Chi pleaded. "Is. That. Clear?" Chi looked down at her feet. "Yes, Mr. Bolton." Lavar grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. "_IS THAT CLEAR?_" "Yes, Mr. Bolton. Sorry, Mr. Bolton."

When he finally made it to the front door, he looked over at a maid who was scrubbing the floor. "Raye, when you're done with that make sure you clean the silverware. I couldn't see my face in the spoons during breakfast." Raye said "I just cleaned them, Mr. Bolton." "Well clean them again!" He snapped at her. "When I tell you to do something, I expect you to do it. If you don't, you don't get paid. This isn't Harlem where you can do as you please, so stop acting like it." "Yes, Mr. Bolton", she said as she stood up. "Good. I'll be back later. Try not to burn the building down." "Yes, Mr. Bolton." Raye said goodbye as he walked through the door. The minuted he she tossed her rag at his portrait over the fireplace and cursed his mother for ever giving birth to him.

It was later that night as Lavar was driven around town in his Rolls-Royce by his chauffeur. They were headed to a specific destination for tonight. The car rolled up to the front of an apartment building. Lavar watched as people dressed in rags and tatters were huddled around some of the corners, asking for money and waiting in lines for food and water at nearby shelters. Lavar looked down on these people with such contempt, and a feeling of satisfaction. He turned to his driver, Kurt, and said "Look at them. It's so pathetic, wouldn't you say so Kurt?" "Yes sir, very pathetic."

"Spare some change?"

A woman wearing a tattered old coat and gloves you'd find on a scarecrow was standing in front of the passenger window of Lavar's car. Lavar looked at her disgustedly and said "get away from me, hag."

The woman looked away and walked back over to the street lamp she'd been standing under. Then, the door to the building opened, and _she_ walked out. With ebony black hair and eyes that twinkled like stars at midnight.

"Ah", Lavar said, "Lydia".

Indeed. Lydia Jefferson was a sight to behold. Lavar had met her at a function a few months back, and since then he had been dead set on making her his woman. She was the daughter of some scientist, and Lydia carried on whatever intellect her father had. Smart and beautiful, a rare combination.

She was wearing a black evening gown with a silk shawl and black heels. Two crescent moon earrings adorned her ears, while red lipstick was applied to her lips.

"Spare some change, miss?" The old woman was now asking Lydia. She didn't give up. Then, Lydia opened her purse, took out a dollar, and gave it the woman.

"Here you go." Oh, her voice sounded like mockingbirds singing in springtime. "Bless you, miss." The woman said in gratitude. That was another thing about Lydia. She was... _charitable_. Ugh. Lavar didn't want to think about the word. Lydia, unlike some girls, did honest-to-God charity work with the city's homeless, alongside that group her small group of friends. Lavar didn't like them. He thought they were weird. But, he could tolerate them, as long as he was with her.

Lavar moved over so that Lydia could get inside. "Lydia, so wonderful to see you." "Hello, Lavar", she said to him. "You have no idea how wonderful it is to see you again, darling." he said to her. Lydia inwardly sighed. This was going to be a long night.

"Do you know where you'd like to have dinner tonight?" he asked her. "Actually, there is this one place I'd like to go to."

The car pulled up to a club in downtown Manhattan. The name of the club was flashed in big yellow neon letters.

"Brande's? As in R.J. Brande? The industrialist?" Lavar asked.

"Yeah. This place opened a few months ago. They went low-key with the publicity, though."

Lydia hoped bringing him wasn't a mistake. She hoped that what she was going to tell him didn't turn into a fiasco, but she needed him to understand what he was doing had to stop. And besides, she had friends here. But more than everything else, she knew tonight was going to be hell.

"Hi. Welcome to Brande's. I'm Jim, I'll be your host for the evening." Their host was a tall man, taller even then Lavar, but he seemed young, probably only 20 or 21, and he had a nice demeanor. He had brown hair, and brown eyes, but there was something about him that Lavar didn't like. Then, Lavar figured out what he didn't like about him in his voice. Their host, Jim, was an... undesirable of society.

"Please, right this way." Jim the host lead the two to their table. The whole club was in full swing that night. People were laughing, eating, drinking, dancing, and reminiscing. The band was playing a current jazz tune that was quite popular that could be heard outside the building. The club itself had been decked out in Halloween decorations for the big day tomorrow. Orange and black streamers. candles, lights, and even some plastic flowers decorated the walls and tables, as well as fake cobwebs and sheet ghosts hanging from the ceiling. Over at the bar there were cutouts of ghouls and goblins decorating the big mirror behind the bar. At their table, in place of a candle, there was jack-o'-lantern with a dopey grin. Lydia thought it was cute, but Lavar thought it was childish. Jim handed them two menus and told them that a waiter would be there to take their orders in a few minutes.

On stage, the band had stopped playing and the club goers applauded them. Then, the head of the band took the microphone, and said, "Ladies and gentlemen, please put your hands together for that Arabian Alto, that Sultana of the Symphony... YERA!!"

On cue, a woman with lovely tanned skin, wavy black hair and dark eyes like the night sky, wearing a rose colored evening gown walked onto stage. Everyone was excited she was there. As the spotlight was centered on her, she took the microphone over from the band leader. Before she started to sing, she blew a kiss out to someone in the audience. Would you believe it was meant for Jim? Yera began to serenade the crowd, and Lavar and Lydia started looking through their menus.

"I say, Lydia, I had no idea this place was so... popular." He said the last word like it was poison. Lydia picked up on that. Looking up from her menu, she said "a friend of mine told me about this." "Huh, is that right?" Lavar could've cared less.

"Hi. Welcome to Brande's, I'll be your waiter for the evening. My name's Rocky, are you two ready to-" their waiter got cut off when he saw who was at the table. "Oh, hi Rocky. I didn't know you were working tonight." Lydia was surprised to see him. Lavar looked at the two, confused. "I'm sorry, do you two know each other?" "I've known Rocky for a few weeks now. Imra introduced us." Ah, yes, the infamous Imra Arden, Eve Aries' stepdaughter. "So you know most of the staff at this place?" Lavar asked. "Well, just a few of them."

Lavar looked over this waiter, this "Rocky." He wore a standard waiter's uniform. His hair was short and black, eyes royal blue, and his face gave the impression of someone who's had to work most of his life. Definetly working class, or between working class and poverty. He was blushing furiously at Lydia. Inwardly, Lavar laughed. Like a working class stiff could ever have a chance with someone like Lydia Jefferson. Lydia deserved someone who could treat her to the best. This guy couldn't give Not in hell.

Richard Krane, known mostly to his friends as Rocky, had been smitten with Lydia Jefferson the minute he saw her. They had been introduced by Imra Arden, a girl whom was staying with Rocky and his six friends in the apartment complex above the club in order to avoid her murderous stepmother. Of course, while Rocky did like Lydia, he was too shy to tell her. Which was surprising, when you would consider Rocky's "can do" attitude. Amongst his friends, Rocky had a take charge approach to life, an all-around nice guy whose hardworking demeanor was a positive example for some. But it could get kind of annoying after a while.

The kicthen was busier than a bee hive that night. Then again, it was always like that. The chefs were trying to keep up with the orders and the waiters and waitresses were handing them out as fast as they could. You hadn't lived until you tasted the food that was served at Brande's. This was, in no small part, thanks to the young chief Brian Londo.

Back at their table, Lavar was blathering on about how his work and about his day at some country club, talking about how to discipline the workers when they act out or do something stupid. Then she had to listen to some ridiculous story about his trip to the Mediterranean after their drinks had came. Lydia started to rub her temple. It was already ten minutes in and already she was listening to him brag about his money. He stopped when he noticed her annoyed expression.

"Something wrong, my sweet?"

"No, I just, excuse me. I need to go use the little girl's room." she lied. "Ah, by all means. I'll be right here when you get back." Oh joy.

As Lydia got up to the go to the bathroom, Rocky's conscience was nagging at him.

_Go on, this is your chance._

Rocky wasn't sure. She was obviously in no mood. But, still, he wanted to see if that guy wasn't bothering her too much from the looks of things. Of course, it isn't civilized to follow a woman in the bathroom, so he would talk to her when she came out.

After he finished delivering the entre to an elderly couple, Rocky passed by the hallway leading to the washrooms. He stopped when he saw Lydia banging her head against the wall in frustration. Now was the time to talk to her.

"Lydia? You're gonna hurt yourself if you keep doing that."

"Oh! Rocky. I'm sorry." Lydia stopped doing what she was doing and straightened out her hair.

"Lydia, is that guy bothering you?"

"No! I mean, yes, but..." she couldn't think of what to say. Why did it have to be him? The first time she saw him she felt her heart skip a beat, now it was skipping a bunch of them. At the worst possible time.

"Listen, if you want me to tell him to leave, I will." Rocky offered. "No, it's not like that. The thing is, I brought him here so we could have a 'talk'."

Rocky understood what she meant. Whenever a girl says she wants to have a "talk" it means the same thing. But, then that meant that guy _was_ her boyfriend? But it also meant she was breaking up with him! Yes! He did have a chance after all!

"So, then that guy is your boyfriend?" Lydia looked at Rocky with a blank stare, followed by laughter. "No, but he thinks he is." Okay, that meant he didn't like this guy. There was nothing worse than guys who live in imaginary relationships.

"We've only been out three times, but he doesn't stop sending me stuff." "So? It sounds like he cares." "No, he doesn't", Lydia explained, "He's mean, he's a pig, and he's greedy. I've told him enough times that we aren't together but he doesn't take the hint. I was hoping maybe I could finally get it through to him tonight in a place I was comfortable at, but he won't listen." Lydia sighed.

Rocky put his hand on her shoulder.

"Look, if don't care about this guy, then you should set him straight. You're too nice a girl to have to put up with something like that and there are a lot of guys out there who would take advantage of the situation." Lydia looked up at him.

"You can do it. Don't worry about it. And if he won't listen you just tell me and I'll make him listen."

Lydia smiled. Rocky beamed. "Thanks", she told him. "Why can't all guys be as sweet as you?"

Lydia said thanks again and walked back to her table. Rocky felt proud at that moment.

_There. That wasn't so bad. But what if she thinks of me as a "friend"? Oh God I screwed up._

Lydia finally took her seat again. Lavar asked "Ah. There you are. I was afraid you'd fallen in." He laughed at his little joke. She didn't.

"Listen, Lydia. Why don't we take a trip this week? Just the two us." Lavar reached to take Lydia's hand from across the table, but she pulled away. "Lavar, listen, we need to ta-"

"Before you say anything else, let me just say that we could go wherever you want. Paris, Milan, the Philipines, the Alps. You name it. I figure we're do for a change of scenery."

"'We'? Listen Lavar-"

"And in the future, I'd perfer it with we're to dine in establishments more... selective about their staff."

Lydia looked up at him.

"Selective? What do you mean by 'selective'? What's wrong with the staff here?" Lydia crossed her arms and demanded to know.

"Well other than the belly dancer on stage, I don't feel too safe around the host. I don't know if you notcied this, but I think he might be a..." he trailed off before he lowered his voice to her. Oh God, please don't go there. Please, please, puh-lease.

"J-E-W."

Uh-oh. He went there. And he wasn't leaving.

That was it. The final straw. It was now or never. She was gonna kick him to the curb.

"Okay, you know what? You just made this a whole lot easier for me. I was going to be civil and be the bigger woman. I was hoping not to stoop to your level when I let you down, but now I'm going to enjoy this. No, Lavar, I will not go with you to Paris. I would not go with you to Milan. I would not even go into the same room with you after this night."

Lavar's smile started to falter. "Oh come now, Lydia, you're acting very-"

"I am not acting like anything. I am saying exactly how I feel. Lavar, you have had some very big misconceptions about our relationship. Mainly, we don't have one. You are, by far, the _greediest_, most _self-absorbed_ human being I have ever met besides Eve Aries and I hope you I _never_ see you again after this night."

"But we've been seeing each other for months!" he told.

"Months? Lavar, this is the third time you've taken me out, anywhere. Second, actually, since the first time we just met at that fundraiser for dad's university. You asked me out to dinner, and I agreed because I thought you were nice. But that dinner was anything but nice. The constant insults and the putdowns to the staff, the way you flashed your money in front of everyone, and not to mention they way you made the valet cried. I tried to explain it then, but you didn't take the hint then and you aren't taking it now. And after that, you kept popping up everywhere, leaving me expensive gifts, even though I explained four times that I was uncomfortable with it. And then I have to hear from my father and my friends' parents how you're bragging about having me as "your girl". You don't treat me like a woman, you treat me like a pet you don't even own."

"Lydia, be reasonable," Lavar started, trying to get some advantage, "you took all those gifts. The jewels, the furs, the clothes, the perfumes." "And you know what I did with them? I donated them to charity."

Something inside him snapped. The diamonds, the rubies, the expensive perfumes order straight from places whose names he couldn't pronounce, the Alaskan furs, the Chanel brand clothing, they were now in the possession of some dirty vagabound. Lavar's eyes began to twitch and he tried to talk this calmly through before he made a scene. "You... _gave away_... everything? Do you... have any idea... how much. They. _Cost_?"

"I. Don't. Care."

Lavar's brain just seemed to stop for a moment. Lydia sighed in frustration and got up from the table. She walked back to where Rocky was standing.

"Are you okay?" he asked. She looked up at him and smiled. "You have no idea how good that felt." Rocky smiled back. He was glad she told that creep off. "Listen, do you have a phone I can use? I want to call a cab." "Oh hey, you don't have to do that. My break's coming up in a while, I could drive you, if that's okay, I mean." He said, still blushing, and heart beating frantically. Lydia seemed to beam. "That sounds great."

The heavenly choir that was singing in Rocky's mind just hit a sour note when he saw Lavar, fuming, and walking up to them. "Uh oh." "You better believe, uh oh!", he said to the two. Some people turned to look at the angry Lavar.

"How dare you embarrass me like that, you little tramp! After all the money I spent on you!" Lydia was about to say something when Rocky intercepted her. "The only one doing any embarrassing is you. Leave her alone."

"This is none of your business, 'Rocky'! Now stay out of it." "You make it my business when you harrass a beautiful woman who doesn't have to put up with your trash. Now apologize to her." he order him. Lavar gaped. "Me?! Apologize to her?! After what she just said to me?!" Over on the stage, Yera could notice what was going on, and she noticed thaht Jim was headed their way.

"Last I recalled, we had something in this country called freedom of speech. And everything she said about you was nothing more than the truth, the absolute truth, and nothing _but_the truth." Rocky poked Lavar in the chest, who swatted his hand away.

"Keep your filthy hands off my suit. I have no idea where they've been and _who_ they've been _in_."

Rocky's eyes snapped open, and he looked like he was about to punch Lavar, when Lydia came in between them and said, "Forget him. He isn't worth the lawsuit." Lydia glared at Lavar. "Go home, Lavar. I already told you, I never want to see you again. Bother me ever again and I'll go to the police." Lavar couldn't take it anymore. He raised his hand to slap her, until his arm was grabbed by Rocky and he was held against the wall.

"Get off me! Do you know who I am?!" Okay, now people were looking at them. "I could care less." Rocky held onto Lavar's arm. He finally let him go. Lavar began to rub the sore spot on his arm. "Don't you ever put your hands on her like that again, you hear me?" "I didn't even touch-"

"DO. YOU. HEAR. ME?"

Lavar scowled. "You would choose him over me? A waiter?!" "He has more character in his pinky than you do in your whole body." Lydia said as she stood by Rocky. "Why you cheap-" Lavar was cut off when he was suddenly lifted into the air by the host, Jim.

"Sir, if you can't act properly around a woman or around the club staff then you'll have to leave." Jim grabbed Lavar by his collar and held him up to his face. "Now."

"Get off me, you filthy Jew!" The people around them gasped. Jim was blinking rapidly. Lydia looked disgusted, and Rocky was now about to kill him. "Okay, that's it you-"

"_WHAT DID YOU SAY TO MY LOVER, YOU WORM_?!"

Everyone in the club abruptly stopped doing what they were doing and turned to the stage. Yera, the singer, was holding the microphone stand the same way a nun would hold a ruler in front of a misbehaving child in Sunday school. She was giving Lavar a death glare, so was Rocky, and so were Jim and Lydia. Suddenly, a spotlight had been placed on him. Lavar gulped.

Someone on the upper floor said "Ooooh, he gonna get it."

Seconds later, Lavar was tossed out of the restaurant on his butt.

"AND DON'T COME BACK!" Yera and Rocky screamed at him from the door. Yera was muttering some curses in Arabic as she walked back on stage and almost immediatley everyone started to clap and applaud her, and Rocky. Yera beamed and took a bow.

"Are you okay, Lydia?" Rocky asked her. "I'm fine. Thanks." Lydia kissed him on the cheek. "My knight in shining armor." Rocky blushed the reddest he ever did. He would never wash that cheek again.

...

"Cab you believe that? I have never been so humiliated in my life!" Lavar screamed at Kurt as he drove the exhausted millionaire back to his apartment. "Really, sir? What happened?"

"That witch, Lydia, standing me up over a busboy. A busboy! Can you believe it?"

Kurt thought for a minute, "Why no sir. Who would ever turn you over?" "Damn straight! And that sand jockey manhandling me, tossing me out. They should've tossed out that Jew host! Honestly! Soon those rats will be ruling the world." "We're here, sir." Kurt said as they pulled up to the front of the building. The doorman walked up and let Lavar out.

"Did you have a nice-" the doorman started, but Lavar said "DON'T YOU START WITH ME!!" The doorman looked aghast, wondering what his problem was. "Night sir." Kurt said. He drove the car around the car and parked it. Then, he unbuttoned his collar and took out a small Star-Of-David on a chain and grasped it tightly in his hands.

"Oh I'm going to enjoy this."

Lavar muttered to himself all the way up to his apartment. After he walked in, he noticed that all the lights were on. "Raye you lazy... RAYE! What is this?!" Lavar was walking down the hall yelling for Raye when he threw open the doors to the dark dining hall, "Raye where the hell are y-"

"Hello, Jack."

"W-what? Who's there? Who's in my home?!" Lavar screamed at the darkness. At that, the lights turned on, to reveal a woman withjet black hair and violently green eyes and emerald earrings sitting at the long dining table, sipping at a glass of brandy pilfered from his liquor cabinet. She was wearing a dark green evening gown, and had on a ring with a green jewel that looked like an eye.

"Who the hell are you?"

"My name is Kesh. Sarah Kesh. I work for an organization aimed at providing... relief for people willing to pay. My employer wanted to pass a message onto you. He says "no one steals from the McCauleys."

"Who?" Lavar asked. He was starting to lose his patience with this woman.

"The McCauleys. You remember. The man you stole from Jack." Sarah explained.

"My name is Lavar John Bolton, and you are messing with one of the most powerful men in this city you witch. I don't know any... McCauley..." Lavar trailed off as it hit him. "You finally remember?" Sarah asked. Indeed he did. The name of the man whose bank account had been cleaned out and put into his was Leland McCauleyIII. Lavar closed the doors behind him.

"What do you want from me?"

"It's not what _I_ want. This is about what my _employer _wants. Leland McCauley IV. He's paid a very large cash amount for your life and I intend to make sure he gets his money's worth."

Lavar scoffed. "You? A woman? What can you do?"

Sarah smiled a cruel a twisted smile. Lavar wasn't worried, until he noticed the four other glasses at the table.

"What makes you think I came alone?" Sarah snapped her fingers, and the door behind Lavar burst open and he was suddenly in the grasp of a very large and muscular man whose appearance was as foul as his breath.

"My associate, Valentino." Sarah explained. "Oh, boys!" At her command, three other men came in. One was an Italian man wearing leather gloves, the second had on him a ski mask and was carrying an axe, and the third had prosthetic limbs on the left side of his body and a creepy looking blue eye, while the left side of his face was heavily scarred.

"Jack, I would like you to meet Mano, Cole, and Thaddeus. Mano and Cole handle the grunt work alongside Valentino, while Thaddeus is the information man. I am the go-to girl, meaning they go to where I tell them." Sarah explained while Lavar was squirming in Valentino's arms.

"You two!" she pointed to Mano and Cole. "Get to work." The two nodded in agreement and went off into other parts of the room, but Cole had been stopped by Thaddeus.

"I don't believe _that_", he pointed to Cole's axe, "will be necessary at the moment." Cole let out a sigh of disappointment and dropped the axe on the ground. After he left the room, Sarah said to Valentino, "bring him here and hold him down." Valentino grunted and slammed Lavar down onto the dinner table. "Let's get started."

"Let me go you brute! What do you want from me?!" Lavar screamed in futility as Sarah began to go through the liquor cabinet. Thaddeus took out a black file and began to read its contents aloud.

"Lavar John Bolton, born to Rosemarie and Quentin Bolton of the South Carolina Boltons. Your parents raised you in a crapwater town in Tennessee, yet you yourself have barely maintained any hint of a Southern lineage save for your bloodline. Probably because for the last eighty years the only type of cultural traits your family has maintained is leaving like derelicts and rats ever since the Civil War, and your great-grandparents squandered their money by funding Lee."

"How _dare _you talk about my family like that, you-!" Lavar was cut off by Valentino's sweaty hand over his mouth. Lavar thought he was going to puke from the stench of the behemoth. Thaddeus continued.

"In your early years you showed a great love of learning, yet you were also a very selfish child. The other boys and girls didn't want to play with you because you would horde whatever precious toys and candy you had for yourself. As you got older you started to understand your family's desperate financial situation, and you viewed that whatever hopes you had for a better education would be zilch to bupkiss. You have your old friends Sandy Anderson and Mikey Astor to thank for our intel. Now, onto when you became Jack."

Sarah set out some bottles on the table. She held up an aged wine with faded and cracked label.

"Ah, look at this collection. They stopped making this brand a century ago. Very rare."

She uncorked the bottle. "Valentino, keep him still." Valentino moved his hand from Lavar's mouth, who was gasping for air and continued to scream obscenities as the other two workers continued to do untold damage to Lavar's home. Sarah put a finger on Lavar's lips and made a calming noise, like when nursing a baby, before she shoved the bottle into his mouth and the contents were poured into his mouth.

"Drink up, baby! You need your strength."

"Where was I?" Thaddeus pondered. "Oh, yes. The first time you became the boy-thief, Jack B. Quick. During your teenage years you made quite a name of infamy by robbing some of the more influential homes of your town. What started out in a general store when you stole one single piece of candy became years of breaking and entering. What's surprising is that you never got caught. What's even more surprising is how you managed to clear out the bank accounts of two of the formerly richest men in the country without leaving a paper trail. While I thought it was suspicious, McCauley could care less how you did it. He just wants you dead. And with the money he's paying, I'm not complaining."

Thaddeus plucked out his left eye, which turned out to be glass. "I need replacement for this."

After she finished force-feeding him the contents of three bottles, Sarah let him get some air as he started coughing violently with wine and amaretto spread over his face.

"Is the baby full? Valentino...", Valentino at his boss. "Burp the baby."

At her command, Valentino started to shake Lavar like an infant, shaking up the contents of his stomach. The four left the room into Lavar's living room, which had been wrecked by Cole and Mano. After finally shaking up Lavarenough, Valentino released his hand from his mouth and Lavar quickly puked over his expensive rug and destroyed furniture. His portrait was wet and dripping from a pot of coffee that was left from the kitchen. He groaned and Sarah leaned over to smell his breath.

"Ugh. He smells like my ex-husband. Yeah, this is pretty convincing."

"Pl-please", Lavar begged them, "w-whatever he's p-p-paying you I can double it. T-triple it! Name your price!"

The five laughed.

"Oh, Jackie-" "STOP CALLING ME THAT! MY NAME IS LAVAR!" Sarah slapped him. "Don't yell at a woman. It's bad manners. Now, as I was saying, Jackie, when we get an assignment, we carry it out to the very end. The. Very. End. You're money can't help in this. All the money in the world couldn't help you. Besides, you should be lucky McCauley hired us. If he went with the Black Glove, this would be going on for years. Those people like to play games with human lives."

"Those freaks are twisted." the Persuader. "You hear about what they did to John Mayhew?"

"And besides", Mano said for the first time, "pay us to stop what? You mean stop you from your drunken stupor, how you got rejected by some broad and so you downed almost every bottle in your house, wrecked it, and launched your guts out. Ain't that right, Kurt? Miss Tsan? Miss Raye?"

Kurt, Chi, and Raye walked out of the shadows. Kurt walked up to Lavar and said "Exactly right. You should have heard the way he was cursing on the way home, about how Jews and all the other undesirables are ruining this country."

After he was finished, Kurt spat in his face. Chi followed after him and slapped Lavar twice.

"You've had this coming for years. Treating us like slaves when we work our fingers to the bone making your home spotless. Making my family suffer with a pay that amounts to nothing."

Raye followed after her. She eyed him, then shoved the rag she had been washing the floor with in his face.

"There. Taste that? That's the rag you've made me clean with for the last three years. I hope you scream all the way down."

"W-what?"

"Yeah. And then after puking you stumble over to the window, toss a bottle through it thinking it's a mirror in your drunken stupor, and..." Mano trailed off.

"Splat!" finished Valentino, the first words he ever spoke. Cole walked over to the window overlooking the front of the building. He opened it, dropped an empty bottle out, then closed it again.

"No. Nononononon-", Lavar's voice was silenced by Valentino once again.

"There was one other thing I forgot to mention, Jack" Sarah finished. "The money's not really important. We do this because it's fun."

Valentino raised Lavar above his head. Lavar, kicking and screaming, had to watch as Valentino slowly walked over to the window. One could imagine the sound of a solemn elegy played on an organ.

"And now, it's time to say good-bye. We're glad to have offered you a fun-filled evening..." Sarah started. At that, Valentino heaved Lavar above his head, through the glass into the open air.

"Courtesy of the Fatal Five."

Lavar screamed all the way down, watching the windows of the other apartments pass him by as broken glass fell like rain and his life flashed before his eyes until...

"Oooh! That's going cost him some points on that landing." Thaddeus joked. They could hear a horn going off down below and people yelling out for help. "Well boys, our work is done. Let's call McCauley and let him know it's done. Cole, go get your axe. And as for you three..." Sarah turned to Kurt, Chi, and Raye. "I doubt you need any... persuading, to keep this incident quite." The three nodded. "You have nothing to worry about." Kurt said. "Good, because if not, we call Mano his name because he likes to work with his hands. Now, beat it!"

The three left. Sarah turned to Cole, who had returned with his axe.

"Good. Let's get going."

As the five left through the servants elevator, Sarah asked, "Cole why _are_ you wearing that ridiculous mask?" "Oh, I had to leave from this costume party my kid went to. That reminds me, I gotta take her out tomorrow night for trick-r'-treating." The other four went, "_Aww_."

"How is little Elise?" Thaddeus asked. "Growing like a weed." "And Ingrid? How's she doing?" Sarah asked. "Good." "Ah, tell her I said hello?"

"So I saw that _Frankenstein_ movie last night." Mano said. "Really, how was it?" Sarah asked. "Scared the hell out of me." They all laughed.

...

Finally, Lavar started to stir.

"Oh, my head..."

He didn't know where he was, but it was dark. He looked up, and saw a light. He felt a tapping at his shoulder. He turned around, and there was Old Rattle Bones. The Grim Reaper himself.

"Oh God, I'm dead." The Reaper nodded. "WOO-HOO! Now I get an eternity of pleasure. Out of my way, bone-head!" Lavarshoved past the Reaper and ran up to the light. After a few seconds, the Reaper sighed, and said "Finally!" She took off her skull mask and the robe to reveal a petite girl with black hair, a pale face, and black make-up on. "This costume itches."

Lavarlooked up at the heavenly sight. He heard choirs of angels and... jazz music? He had just reach the front gates of "Club Eden." It looked like a tropical resort. There was a man with neatly combed white hair sitting at a desk in front of the golden gates, writing something in a big, leather bound book. Lavar walked up to him, and the man said "Name?"

"What?" Lavar asked. "Your name. What's your name son?" "Oh, of course. Lavar Bolton." The man at the desk started to comb through the book. "Nope. Not in here."

"What? Than try Lavar John Bolton." Lavar was confused and worried. What was going on?

"Nope. Sorry. No Lavar John Bolton. No Boltons at all for that matter. Oh, wait! I have a Michael Bolton, _hmm_, but he's not due for another century. So, if you could just move along."

Lavarwas shoved aside by two women who had cases of drinks with them. The man at the front nodded at them. "Evening Mary, Martha." "Evening, Pete", they said together as they walked in.

"Look everyone! Martha Washington and Mary Todd Lincoln brought the tequila!" "HOORAY!!"

Lavar couldn't believe this. As his stomach started to turn at the thought of drinks, he realized there was one man he had to talk to about this mix-up. Hoping off the cloud, Lavar started to fall back into the darkness, into it became hot. Very hot. Soon, he landed below, in front of the flaming gates of "_Club Dis_." Above the door was a saying "_Abandon All Hope Ye Who Enter. No Solicitors._"

There was a woman with black wavy hair and two horns sitting at the welcome desk, decorated with more Halloween decorations, at the gates. There was a long line in front of her, made up of men, women, and even children, surprisingly

"Name?" "Barry." "Barry what?" "Jus' Barry. My pa sold our last name." "I see and your qualifications?" "Shot and killed a man." "Is that it?" "Shot him through his wife's face." "Kinky! Come on in. You report to the Room with the old man being pecked at by crows is nailed to the door. Enjoy!"

The man with the noose around his neck walked through the flaming doors, and almost immediately he said "Hey! Lloyd! Small world, huh?"

Lavarwalked up the woman at the front desk and pounded on the book. She looked up with a secretarial gaze in her eyes. "Sir, are you aware there is line? You're going to have to wait your turn for eternal damnation same as everyone else. Or you can just fume here and not get in."

A man who had a piece of shrapnel sticking out of his forehead cried "you mean we have a choice?!" The shrapnel man started to run into the void when the woman at the desk said "Beel! Zaz! We got a runner!" A fly-like demon and one who could only be described as a flaming mass of eyes and mouths ran after him.

"Listen, I demand to speak to Mr. Trapper immediately! That trickster has some damn good explaining to do!" The secretary muttered, "He sure does. I've been waiting five hundred years for that vacation." She sighed and started to leaf through the book, "okay your name is...?" Lavar replied "Bolton. Lavar John Bolton"

"Okay, Lavar John..." the woman trailed off when she noticed the transparent red mark over Lavar's name. "Oh crap. One minute please. Lucy!" the woman yelled into the club. "Get the Boss Man! We got a special case over here!" The woman looked back at Lavar. "I swear you freaks are always coming out at Halloween."

"There a problem, Stiletta?"

Lavar looked up and there was Trapper, looking exactly the same as he did all those years ago.

"You lying fiend!" Lavar screamed at him.

"Why hello, Jackie. So lovely to see you again." Trapper replied. "You said I was gonna get into heaven and they wouldn't let me into the front door!" At that moment everyone else in the line, including Stiletta and some of the people inside, started laughing as if Lavar had just told the world's funniest joke. Trapper raised his hand and the laughter was cut off. Then he lowered it and they started laughing again. Then raised it again, then down, then up again for good.

"Sorry. I just love doing that." Trapper explained. "Now, you having second thoughts about our deal? A little bit late for that, don't you think?"

Lavar told, or better yet yelled at Trapper "When I let you out of that tree you said I wouldn't be allowed in here." "And you're not, you couldn't get in here if you tried." "Then why can't I get into heaven?" Trapper chuckled, "My dear boy. I never once mentioned heaven." "But, but you said there would be only one place for me to go!" "And why did you think I was talking about heaven?"

Lavar was exasperated. "But if I'm not allowed in here and I'm not allowed up there, where am I supposed to go?!"

"My guess is back where you came from."

Lavar couldn't believe what he had heard. How could he go back there? He was dead. Did that mean-?

"That's right, Lavar. You're now stuck in that broken down shell of a body for the rest of eternity." Trapper said. "I would just like to say that this is my favorite part of these moments. When they get that look on their face when they realize just what they've gotten themselves into."

"You... you...", Lavar was at a loss for words. "Do you realize what you've done to me?!"

"Oh, don't go blaming me Jackie. I may have pitched the deal, but it was your own greed that let you hear me calling out that night. And it was your own greed that's been driving you for the last few years. Tell me, have you even been truly happy? At all? You had no friends, no loved ones, and no chance at intimacy withanyone. You think it's money that makes the world go round. Well, I got news for you. It doesn't. Compassion, hope, love, the will to live, these are what make the world go round. Not material possessions. I'm the one people have to deal with when their diving head first into the more hyped elements. Fear, anger, and greed. I'm the other side of the mirror. Most people see me, they think I enjoy this. Truth is, I do. Because it means I'm doing my job. This place isn't just about pain. It's about rehabilitation. People come in, spend a few thousand years getting flailed and ripped apart, until they get the message they didn't get the first time around. It's like summer school. It may take a little longer on some of the others, and for most there is no chance for what they've done in life, but few can understand that. That other place you go to when people kill themselves is like that, just less painful and more boring. Oh, and you can't go there either. But tell me? Did you ever consider what you might have gained if you turned me down? Now you have no home to go to anymore. No more ties or connections. You've been expelled from joining society, Lavar. And now you have to wander the living for the rest of eternity until time ends. And then that's when things are going to get _fun_."

Lavar couldn't believe this. He was getting lectured on morals by _Satan _himself. Lavar's eyes darkened and he stared at the Prince of Darkness.

"I'm going to kill you. It may take centuries but I will find a way to destroy you for what you've done to me."

"Better men than you have tried. But, hey, I feel bad for you. So, here." Trapper took the jack-o'-lantern on Stiletta's desk and handed it to him. "Use this to light your way back, Jack. I'd stick around but I have to go see what's going on with this next world war. Oh, those Germans. Crack me up every time." Trapper chuckled as he walked back inside.

Lavar stared at the mad grinning face of the orange pumpkin. "A-hem." Lavar turned to Stitletta. She was tapping her red and black nails on the desk. "You heard the man. Beat it, Jack!"

Lavar solemnly turned around and started walking off. One of the damned in the line yelled, "Look! A jack-o'-lantern for a jackass!" They roared with laughter as Lavar just kept on walking, clutching that pumpkin to his chest as he tread through the primordial darkness.

...

He awoke in a fright in a cold and dark room. He placed a hand to his forehead, where he felt something rough and scratchy. He got up from the board that he was lying down on and stumbled around in the darkness. There was something about this place, the smell, it was nauseauting. Antiseptic and roses and decay, like a sterile flower shop filled with dead plants. He reached around in the dark, and bumped his knee on the sharp corner of a table. Something fell over and broke on the floor. He couldn't see what the contents were, but it just added to the stench. He gagged and covered his mouth, until finally he found the light switch. Once the light came on, Lavar stared in disbelief.

A morgue. He was in a morgue. There were bodies on slabs, stitched up and dissected. Jars filled with embalming fluid and organs extracted from the fleshy shells inside the metal containers. Lavar's knees turned to jelly and gave way. He shook his head and denied that this could be happening. He wanted to scream, but nothing came out, not even a gasp. He looked down at the puddle of fromaldehyde, and he saw a very loose reflection in the gangreen liquid. His eyes bugged out, his jaw dropped. No. That couldn't be right, could it? He got up and stumbled over into a bathroom adjcent to the room.

He saw his reflection. _His _reflection. He wanted to moan, but he couldn't. There was a big black stitch going over his throat. His whole body was covered in them. Ugly, black stitches. And his face, dear God, his face, what the fall did to it. He barely recognized himself. His nose had been scrunched up, one of his eyes had been pushed too far out of his socket and he couldn't blink with it. The other one was missing. His jaw was crooked and made a creaking noise everytime he opened it. Part of his scalp had been ripped clean off, and was covered by a piece of leather that had been stitched to cover it. He was hideous, a nightmare out of H.P. Lovecraft. Not even. He was dead. He's alive again. He had to get out of there before someone found him.

He looked around in the death room, and pulled off a long white coat and a surgicical mask from a rack. Looking for something to cover his head, he stole a hat that most probably belonged to the coroner. He needed to find a way out, and made his way to the stairs that connected the morgue to the upper hospital. He wanted to run, but he couldn't let anyone notice his presence. Holding the coat closed, Lavar snuck past the orderlies and the nurses who were on duty that night. When he passed the main desk, something caught his eye. A jack-o'-lantern. The same jack-o'-lantern that Trapper had given him to light his way back. Something in him compelled him to take, and he did.

Finally running out of the hospital, clutching that hollow pumpkin with all his life, Lavar inwardly moaned as he stumbled forward into a alleyway across from the medical building. A car abrutply stopped in front of him and the driver angrily honked their horn and yelled obscenities at him. Lavar could only shield his face, but the driver caught sight of his bare body and became sick. They sped away, not turning back, and Lavar went back on his way.

He slouched down on the filthy ground in the alley, filled with old trash and puddles of stagnant water. Some vagrants had walked past him, and gave him strange stares. He looked up at them, and they hurried along on their way. Lavar hung his head low, and turned the jack-o'-lantern to face him. He stared at the orange face with the yellow eyes and fanged teeth carved in the flesh, and Lavar did his best to moan. This was what he was reduced to. Not even the poor wretches would associate with him.

Lavar John Bolton. The man who gave in to have everything he wanted, now had nothing, save for a hollow gourd. And this is the way it would be for the rest of his life.

...

Halloween day. Rocky and Lydia were walking in the park. The autumn sun high in the sky, casting down on the multitude of leaves that were littering the ground. There were little kids running around in their costumes, all ready for the night's festivities.

"So, you're sure you okay from last night?" Rocky asked. "That's like the fifth time you've asked me that and I keep telling you I'm fine." She laughed as she said that. "I know, I just..." he trailed off.

"What?"

Rocky sighed. "I know we just met a few weeks ago, and we don't know each other that well, but, I have the night off and there's this party at the club and this may sound kind of last minute, but, I was wondering, if, if..."

Lydia leaned in closer to hear what he was going to say.

"But-I-was-wondering-if-you-would-like-to-go-with-me-tonight" he finally finished. Lydia blinked at him. Then, she smiled and said "come here, you." and pulled him down towards her. The two kissed right then and there.

It felt incredible. Amazing.

They were walking together, side by side and hands entwined. Lydia eased her head on Rocky's shoulder, and he sighed.

_Lydia Jefferson and Rocky Krane. Lovebirds_.

Ah, L'Amour.

Compassion, hope, love, the will to live. These are the things that make the world go round. Without these things, there would be no life. Pity the poor fool who has none of these things, and pray that someday he might learn about them, 'lest they spend eternity in fear and anger.

Happy Halloween.

Next: _The Mirror_

* * *

_"So, if you're greedy, you turn into a zombie hobo?" "...yes."_


	3. The Mirror Part I

Disclaimer: I do not own _Legion of Super-Heroes_

I have to confess, my rhyming is atrocious. I was never cut out to be a poet. Anyway, this next tale is a spin on, you guessed it, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Saturn Girl is playing the role of Snow White, Lightning Lad is the prince, the mirror is Mordru the Merciless, the Huntsman is Blok, and the Dwarfs shall be played by Cosmic Boy, Colossal Boy, Star Boy, Brainy, Bouncing Boy, Cham, and Timber Wolf. Guest appearances by Monstress, Ayla, and other members of the LSV.

**Saturn Girl**: Imra Ardeen Ranzz of Titan. Telepathic abilities. Married to Garth Ranzz, Lightning Lad, with a son named Graym. One of the three Legion founders.  
**Saturn Queen**: Eve Aries of Titan. Uses her telepathic abilities to bring out the worst in people. One of the three founders of the LSV. At least two versions of Eve exist. One is currently in the 31st Century, and the other was last seen in a false version of the bottle city of Kandor. (See _Superman/Batman: Absolute Power_ and _Supergirl: Kandor_)  
**Mordru the Merciless**: An extremely powerful, and extremely wicked, sorcerer who was crossed paths with not only the Legion, but the JLA, the JSA, Doctor Fate, and Amethyst, Princess of Gemworld. Also one of the Lords of Chaos. He has a score to settle with White Witch.  
**Legion of Super-Villains**: An organization of super-villains created as a counterbalance to the Legion of Super-Heroes. There have been many versions of the L.O.S.V., but the most famous case was when they hi-jacked the planet Orando and their leader, Nemesis Kid, killed Legionnaire Karate Kid.  
**Blok**: The last of a race of silicon-based lifeforms from the planet Dryad. While a virtual powerhouse, Blok is also one of the most gentle of the Legionnaires, and has a strong friendship with Legionnaire White Witch.  
**Colossal Boy**: Gim Allon of Earth. Has size-changing abilities. Married to Yera Allon, a.k.a. Chameleon Girl.  
**Star Boy**: Thom Kallor of Xanthu. Gravity-manipulating powers. Was recently cured of his schizophrenia by the being called Gog. In a relationship with Nura Nal, Dream Girl. Star Boy was once expelled from the Legion for killing a man in self-defense, and for a while joined the Subs.  
**Bouncing Boy**: Chuck Taine of Earth. Can inflate his body like a rubber ball. Married to Luornu Durgo, once called Triplicate Girl and later Duo Damsel.  
**Timber Wolf**: Brin Londo of Zuun. Has heightened senses, reflexs, and claws, thanks to being exposed to amounts of zuunium by his scientist father, Mar Londo. In a relationship with Ayla Ranzz, Lightning Lass.  
**Brainiac 5**: Querl Dox of Colu. 12th Level Intellect. Was recently exiled from his home planet and stripped of his title of Brainiac for aiding the Legion of Super-Heroes (See _Superman and the Legion of Super-Heroes_). Known relationships, in varying continuities, include Supergirl, Laurel Gand, Andromeda, and Atom Girl.  
**Chameleon Boy**: Reep Daggle of Durla. Shape-shifting abilities. The son of industrialist R.J. Brande, the richest man in the galaxy.  
**Chameleon Girl**: Yera Allon of Durla. Shape-shifting abilities. Yera was a Durlan actress hired by Imskian revolutionairys to replace Shrinking Violet. Yera had no idea what they did with the real Violet, all the same she fell in love with Colossal Boy and married him. While there are still hard feelings between herself and Violet, Yera is a member of the Legion.  
**Phantom Girl**: Tinya Wazzo of Bgtzl. Intangibility. In a relationship with Jo Nah, Ultra Boy.  
**Dream Girl**: Nura Nal of Naltor. Precognition in REM sleep. In a relationship with Thom Kallor, Star Boy. Lied about her reasons for joining the Legion, so she was kicked out before joining the Subs and later getting her membership back.  
**Shrinking Violet**: Salu Digby of Imsk. Can shrink to microscopic proportions. Was in a relationship with Lallorian hero Ord Quello, Duplicate Boy. That romance ended when he learned Violet had been secretly replaced by Durlan actress Yera, but did nothing to rescue the real Violet.  
**Triplicate Girl/Duo Damsel**: Luornu Durgo Taine of Cargg. Can split into three selves. Her third self was killed by COMPUTO, and her second self had been killed by in the 21st Century by mutated rats on Earth-51. Is married to Chuck Taine, Bouncing Boy.  
**Monstress**: Candi Pyponte-Le Parc III of Xanthu. A gene-altering bomb turned her into a green-hued giantess. Candi was killed by the Progenitor (See _Legion Lost_). Candi was only a member of the Legion post-Zero Hour.  


* * *

Cautionary Tales: _The Mirror - Part I_

_Then_

Ugh. She just could not believe it. There they were, stuck on some backwater road in the middle of nowhere, on Halloween. Michael, Lavar, and herself. That stupid car had broken down in the middle of the road and now she was hiking back. They would be late to the party, after Eve spent so much money on her designer dress. And good-for-nothing Michael was snoring away in the car as she suffered. If it wasn't for that ass she didn't know why she spent so much of her time with him. He left them to go off. Not to get help. To make sure her make-up was alright. At least, that's what Eve wanted to do.

The most important thing to Eve Aries, besides herself, was her appearance. Shimmering red hair that fell below her shoulders, dazzling green eyes like the jewels of the Nile. Curves and cheekbones, healthy vibrant skin and rosy cheeks. Perfectly trimmed nails and carefully managed weight. When the word vanity was coined, the must've had Eve in mind. But like that was the only reason they would put her in a book besides that fact that her smile alone would MAKE the book. And if not, she could just pay them. She was rich after all. Thanks to dear ol' daddy. Her money was just one of the tiny things that drew men to her. Even if she was dirt poor, which she prayed every day would never, ever, happen, she could break wills and constitutions with a single wink. Sighs and broken hearts were her daily diet. She used men like tissues. Except Lavar and Michael. They were too smart for that. Hard to believe there were any smart men at all, except daddy.

"Are we there yet?" Eve complained.

"Almost." Lavar told her. He always had to put up with her. But it was worth it. Eve, Lavar Bolton, and Michael Raines, the Unholy Trinity, they could be themselves together instead of having to put on their patronizing masks for everyone else. Free to talk about anything, anyone, and what they would do to anyone stupid enough to badmouth them.

"You said 'almost' what feels like an hour ago." Eve complained again, her heels hitting the road and echoing into the farm fields as a bloated orange sun began to set on a purple sky.

And soon, they were there. A little row of shops, and a garage, in the middle of nowhere. Lucky them. And look, one of the stores was open. Lucky Eve. Lavar went off to do his thing, and Eve carefully walked through the store. Tremaine Antiques, the sign read.

_An antique store? All the way out here? It better not be dirty._

The store wasn't dirty, but it wasn't exactly clean, either. Some of the stuff in here needed to be dusted.

"Hello?" Eve called. There was no answer. She looked around. There was an interesting assortment of junk in this story. Chiffarobes and wardrobes, tin tea sets and aged, yellow lace doilies. Chipped china dolls with blank, malevolent eyes that followed you around no matter what part of the room you'd be in. Picture frames empty. Ceramic vases cracked and broken. Ripped and dirty dresses hanging on wooden hangers. Eve held her breath. She carefully lifted her dress to walk around. She noticed a front desk, and what seemed to be a chinked china cup half-filled with a brown liquid. A jack-o'-lantern with nasty, grinning teeth stared back at her as yellow flames danced a Halloween dance on the wall.

"Ugh. Horrible." Eve blew the candle out as she passed by. The store was lit fairly well as she walked looking for whoever worked, or owned, this place.

"Hello?" She called again. She was getting impatient. And when she got impatient, she got mad. "Is there anyone in this-Oh!"

Eve stopped short when she turned a corner and saw someone. A woman. Until, she realized, it was merely herself. A reflection. As pleasing as ever. A mirror.

"Thank God." She said to herself as she walked up to it. It was a full body mirror, even taller than her. The frame was made of black, carved wood. Dante-esque carvings adorned it, the top bearing a masked face staring out. The face resembled a mask one would wear to a masque ball out of Leroux. The mirror itself was directly under a store light, bright and full. Eve cared nothing of the frame or the handiwork, only the face staring out of the polished glass. She smiled again at her pleasing doppleganger. She leaned in further, and noticed her lipstick needed touching up. She pulled out of her purse a gold tube, and unrolled a stick of red wax. Her favorite shade.

"Babylonian Bloodstone."

She rolled the tube of her pouting lips, careful not to smear it as eyes met eyes. Not many people would say this to Eve, but her eyes could be as frightening as they were beautiful. But, then again, some saw beauty and fear could sometimes be the same thing. She had a stare not like ice, colder, colder than space itself when she would really, REALLY, stare at you. They would drill through all the layers of your subconcious and go right into your soul, as if she knew something you didn't, as if to say "I know everything about you, and you are nothing but a pathetic insect."

She smacked her lips after finally finishing.

"There. Perfect." She smiled again. But her smile began to falter, as she felt as if someone was watching her. She turned her gaze left, right, then behind, wondering who was there. Eve shrugged this feeling off when it appeared no one was there.

"My imagination." She said, turning back to the mirror once more. "I shouldn't worry so much." She fixed her hair a bit. "Causes wrinkles."

"_Wrinkles, no, I can see none.  
Your face can manage to outshine the sun."_

Eve screamed as the words appeared out of nowhere, and she fell backwards. That voice, it came from the... no, it couldn't have.

"Who's there?" Eve screamed. "Show yourself!"

_"As you wish, my radiant queen.  
Really, there is no need to scream."_

The glass began to cloud over, the reflections disappearing, to be replaced by a single solitary face. Eve's jaw dropped as features began to form. An old man, with a white beard and white hair, and eyes as black as the grave. He had no body. Eve looked around. It was only her. She got up and examined the back of the mirror. Solid wood.

"W-who are you?" Eve asked.

"_Who am I, you need to ask?  
I am the face in the mirror, called to your task.  
I came to quell your woes and worries.  
Pray, why are you in such a hurry?"_

"What is this? An illusion? Some Halloween prank?" Eve demanded. "You messed with the wrong girl you son of a-queen?" Eve stopped. Her ego was being inflated. Horror replaced with curiosity. "You called me a queen?"

_"Your beauty, my dear, words do fail.  
Your praises, my queen, do I hale."_

"I'm beautiful? You think I'm beautiful?" Eve asked. Her eyes began to twinkle.

"_A fairer beauty, I cannot see.  
Above all contenders, you are queen._"

Eve couldn't believe this. She was talking to some... thing inside a mirror. And it said she was beautiful. It called her queen. But how could she be sure?

"How do you know I'm the most beautiful?" She asked.

"_Far and wide, my eyes extend.  
To farthest shore and nearest glen.  
Red hair, blonde, black, brown and white.  
Blue eyes, brown, green, grey, not quite.  
Through all the past and present in my gaze,  
others are nothing but a haze.  
I've seen mother, maiden, and crone.  
I've watched babies cry and flesh sink into bone.  
Since the days of the Royal Empire.  
Since Rome itself fell by fire.  
__A goddess incarnate, I have not found.  
Until your face, my eyes have bound.  
With hair that blazes like a flame.  
And emerald eyes dazzling, you've won the game.  
Your beauty triumphs where others fall,  
Eve Aries, you are fairest of all!"_

Eve's heart skipped. Whatever this thing was, this face in a mirror, it obviously had good taste. Anything to stroke her ego. Before, she knew she was the most beautiful. But this. This! Validation by a creature that was probably, or almost as old as time itself. She recomposed herself as she straightened her outfit and her superior look returned.

"I knew that." She said.

"Knew what?"

Eve turned around. The store owner. Another old man, but not so dignified as the mirror. The mirror. Did he see the face. No. It was gone. The reflections had returned. She sighed.

"Can I help you miss?" The owner asked.

"Can you tell me where you got this wonderful mirror from?" Eve asked, sugar and honey laced in her letters.

"This thing?" The owner motioned the mirror. "European. Got it at a bargain sale a few months ago. Owners were really wanting to get rid of this thing."

"Who owned this?" Eve asked.

"Bank. They were selling this off from some reposessed house. Didn't ask who it belonged to." The owner said as he breathed on it and began to wipe the glass.

"So you don't know who owned this, do you?" Eve asked again, not that she cared. "You said European."

"You can tell just by looking at the framework." The man said. "Why? Interested?" He gave her an examining look, most of which was centered on her chest, and her clothes. He could tell she was not from around here.

"Yes. Yes, I will take it." Eve's eyes watered as she looked at the mirror. She wanted it. She needed it. The validation. The praise. All hers. "How much?" Eve asked. The man started to think.

"Well, given the handiwork and the age, I'd-"

"HOW MUCH?" Eve boomed.

"$100."

"Done." Eve pulled out a crisp, hundred-dollar bill. The man's jaw dropped at her totally careless attitude. A hundred dollars was milk money for her. She wrote down the address of the school and told the man to have it shipped as fast as he can. And warned him that if he didn't deliver the mirror, she threatened to have every bloodthirsty crook and thief at her daddy's disposal ready to rip apart every single part of his useless, meaningless existence. The mirror arrived November 2nd.

And Eve felt like the queen of the world.

_Now_

It was years later, and Eve was in the lap of luxury in a fabulous mansion in New York. Upon finishing college, she immediately gained the attention of most of Robert Arden, one of the richest men in New York. Robert, a widower, was still grieving over the loss of his first wife, Irene. But a few dates, and a few nights later, Eve had him in the palm of her hand.

Their wedding was held in June, and Eve became Eve Arden. Shortly thereafter, Robert himself had died of heart problems, making Eve his heiress. A wealthy widow, Eve had full control of Robert's company.

Despite the Depression going on, Eve managed by cutting corners in the company's budget and making pay cuts in the salaries of her employees. She spent the money on cosmetics and plastic surgeries, trips to fabulous health spas and expensive boutiques around the world. This was all to preserve her beauty. And it worked. She was featured in all the society columns and photographed in the best newspapers and magazines.

In her mansion, Eve had her giant bedroom filled with mirrors so she could spend the day doing nothing but admiring her own radiance. She kept that special mirror placed right in the center of the room, and everyday Eve would ask the same question.

"_Magic mirror, tell me do, tell your mistress, tell her true. Answer me, obey my call, who is the loveliest of all?_"

And the mirror would reply with exactly what she wanted to hear.

"_With hair as red as the blazing sky,  
__there is no way that I can lie,  
__with eyes that shine a brilliant green,  
__you are the fairest of all, my queen._"

"Yes." Eve replied as she so carefully traced the glass with her fingertip.

"I _am_ queen."

None of the staff ever knew about Eve's special time with her mirror, and if they did they were too afraid to say anything because of the temper she had. Yes, Eve was queen. The queen of her own little world. There was just one little problem.

When Eve married Robert, she wasn't expecting to become a mother so young. From his previous marriage, Eve became stepmother to his young daughter, Imra. Eve always thought her name was strange, but Robert said that his ex-wife was "old-fashioned" about these kinds of things.

Still, Eve instantly disliked Imra, although they hardly spent any time together as Imra grew from a small girl into a teenager. And when they did spend time together, Imra did her best to try and be friends with her stepmother, but this didn't work. In Eve's eyes, Imra was the enemy. Not only had they been rivals for Robert's affection when he was alive, but Imra also stood to inherit a large amount of her father's fortune when she turned eighteen. And the worst part? Having a stepdaughter made Eve feel old. And old was synominous ugly.

So, one day in September, you could imagine her surprise when it was that time of the day.

"_Magic mirror, tell me do. Tell your mistress, tell her true. Answer me, obey my call. Who is the loveliest of all?_"

Eve paused for a minute and turned to one of the other mirrors. She said to herself and smiled as she did, "As if I didn't already know

And she received a different answer.

"_With hair as gold as the shining sun,  
__this answer you won't find any fun.  
__Her gentle whisper and loving heart,  
__makes your voice sound like a baboon's fart.  
__With eyes a clear and hopeful blue,  
__your daughter has usurped you._"

Eve's smile started to falter, and a worrisome laugh escaped from her throat at that doggerel.

"Y-you're joking. Very good now tell me the truth. Enough joking."

"_Alas, my queen, I am not.  
__I pray this information, your mood it won't rot._"

Too late.

Eve's smile disappeared, and quickly turned into a scowl. The angriest she had ever felt in years. Her perfectly manicured fingers curled into fists and she screamed and bawled.

"WHAT?! That miserable toad?! Lovelier than me?!"

The mirror started to reply.

"_As your stepdaughter has grown in years,  
__this response, it won't quell your fears.  
__Her face and heart shine like a star,  
__her light outshines your own by far.  
From little girl, to maiden fair,  
She has beaten you, fair and square.  
__Imra Arden is the fairest to the eye,  
__You can't compete, my queen, don't even try._"

"No! No, no NO!! How _dare_ you compare me to a baboon you cheap piece of carnival glass!" Eve fumed and tossed a black velvet drape over the mirror before it could say anything more. She started to pace around the room, rubbing her temples and talking to herself.

"Okay, Eve, calm down. You know what anger does to your complexion. The mirror is just having an off day, that's all." She picked up a hand mirror and started to inspect her face.

"You are by far lovelier than Imra could ever hope to.", Eve said as she brushed away a strand of red hair. She put the mirror down and started to straighten out the wrinkles in her blue and black nightdress. She walked over to her bed and gently rested down on the cushions. Eve started to calm down and she started to read this morning's copy of the Daily Planet, but stopped short when she saw who was on the cover.

"_Imra Arden, Belle of New York City_?!" Eve read the title aloud. Printed in bold black letters above a picture of her stepdaughter, surrounded with her friends. She began to read the article aloud.

"_Instead of spending her nights partying on the town and her days sleeping in, heiress Imra Arden, daughter of the late millionaire Robert Arden, spends her free time working with the city's homeless and impoverished. Ever since the Stock Market Crash, an untold number of Americans have been out on the job and left to wander across the country in search of food and shelter. And Miss Arden has decided to give her aid by supplying many of the city's homeless shelters with food and clothing, together with her close group of friends, including one Tina Wallace, daughter of famed activist Wilhelmina Wallace. With her enduring spirit and gorgeous body, Imra gives new meaning to the phrase "city beautification", a far cry from the reported antics of her shallow stepmother Eve Arden who, in this reporter's opinion, gives new meaning to the phrase "spoiled rotten"_?!"

Eve crumpled up the article into a ball and tossed it away. "I should sue that rag!"

Frustrated even more than she originally was, Eve took the morning's edition of the Daily Star, only to find _another _picture of Imra on the cover. Then she tried the New York Post, the Times, the Cosmopolitan, even the lesser known rags. Imra was on the cover of all of them, and Eve was nowhere to be found.

Eve's eyes started to twitch as violent thoughts ran about in her head, until finally they stopped and she slowly raised her eyes to the mirror in the center of the room. She ripped off the sheet and looked at the face in the mirror.

"What do I do to fix this?"

"_To once again become the fairest in the land,  
you must be willing to get blood on your hands.  
Your stepdaughter's beauty, which everyone is talking about,  
To put an end to it, her time must run out.  
Fair becomes foul, to you foul is fair.  
You must take her life, if you so dare._"

The face in the mirror disappeared, now replaced with Eve's reflection in the dark glass.

"So. I have to kill her." The face in the mirror nodded. Eve thought about it for a moment.

"I can live with that."

...

"Do you know why I've called you?"

Eve was sitting in her study, formerly Robert's study. She was now wearing a blue and black dress and sitting in an imposing chair behind her desk. The sun shone in from the window behind it, casting the shadow of the chair into the office and giving it a malignant tint to the eyes.

"No, Miss Aries."

The man who was standing in front of her was her most loyal bodyguard, Brock Conway. He was tall, and large man. Large as in strong, powerful. Muscular. But, he was a kind and gentle man. Never hurt a fly.

"I've called you about my stepdaughter." "Little Imra? Is something wrong?" Despite whatever misgivings Eve had for her stepdaughter, Brock cared for her like his own child.

"No, no. Nothing like that." Eve waved her hand at the idea. There was nothing wrong. Yet. "As I understand, tonight's the night she works at that homeless shelter, eh..." she trailed off trying to remember the name "St. Something or other."

"St. Claire's." Brock corrected. Eve glared. He shrunk back before her placid expression returned.

"I want to pick her up and drive her around town. Drive her to a part of the city that she is not familiar with. When you find a nice, dark alley, tell her to get out."

Brock blanked. What was she talking about.

"And then, I want you to kill her."

"What?! Miss Aries! What are you saying?!" Brock screamed. He couldn't believe this. "Little Imra?!"

"Don't you DARE talk back to me you piece of sh!t!" Eve screamed. "I have friends, Brock. Friends who would gladly do this with a smile and a thank you." Eve calmly threatened, filling his soul with the venom of a snake as the words curled out of her throat. "But, those friends would need to be paid. And, I believe, you have someone who lives with you. A, Michelle, I believe her name is?" Brock silently gasped. How did she know about his Michelle? Michelle Nelson, the light of his life. "I could have them pay her a visit once they... take care of my stepdaughter." Eve was examining her fingernails as she spoke. "And then you. They'd probably make you watch. Understand, Brock?"

"... yes." Brock hung his head.

"Look at me when I talk to you." She ordered.

"Yes Miss Aries."

"Good." Eve smiled. "Good I'm glad we're on the same page. And, just to make sure you get the job done..."

Brock's dread increased.

"Bring me back her heart..."

Eve reached down, and pulled out a perfectly crafted, jewel-encrusted box. The clasp and lock where shaped like a heart with a dagger going through it. The heart's stone shone like blood.

"In this."

...

"And there you go."

Imra Ardenhad just finished handing out the last meal for the day. At the soup kitchen in Saint Claire's, everyone had gotten a full meal. Money should always be used this way.

"Thanks again, Miss Arden." The man said.

"It's no trouble. It's my duty." Imra explained.

To say that Imra Arden was kind was like saying that Mona Lisa was okay. She thought nothing else of helping her fellow man, despite what some people said about rich girls like her. Smart, beautfiul, caring, funny, all that and more. Imra Arden lost her mother at an early age, and her father shortlt after he remarried. She didn't understand what her stepmother's problem was. Was it her? Anyway, Imra tried to do good for others, because she wanted to make her parents happy and because she wanted to. Imra did not inflate her ego by the things she did, but others would try. Humble was another thing. Maybe because she had to work so hard because she didn't want to fall into the stereotype of most girls her age. Spoiled and lazy. Although some thought she was something of an ice queen. Few. VERY few. Certainly not her friends. And the homeless, tired, and hungry who crowded to the church all thought she was an actual saint, and so did the papers.

Imra Arden, the Belle of New York.

She was busy talking with Father Archer about tomorrow's breakfast.

"We've received you're next donation and we've been able to pay for breakfasts for the next week." He told her, grateful. "Thank you again. You and all your friends, helping..."

"I do what I can."

She began to put her coat on, in the foyer. Before she did, she tapped her necklace. One of the few pieces of jewelry she ever wore besides earrings. Rose quartz set in silver on a chain. Her mother's. She usually tapped it when she was in thought. She almost never took it off.

"You're too good, you know that?"

Imra turned around as she put her coat on. Behind her was Lydia Jefferson.

"You spend most of your time down here helping the poor and homeless when most girls our age would rather be partying in their spare time between classes." Lydia said as she put her coat on. It was September. Classes would be starting soon. And college was somewhat harder then high school. But Imra was a straight A student and got in on her merits, not how much she paid. She was one of the richest girls in the city, thanks to the company her father founded, Arden Enterprises, rivaling Wayne Enterprises in Gotham City.

"I want to give something back Lydia." Imra smiled. "I know it seems superficial, but what are people going to think about our generation if we don't try to help? This Depression isn't getting better. And it shouldn't get worse."

"I know, I know. You keep saying." Lydia said. "I wish more people were like you."

"Like Lavar?" She practically read her mind. That was another thing. Imra usually seemed to know what a person was thinking before they said it.

"Ugh. Don't remind me." Lydia moaned. "He treats me like a poodle." The mere thought of Lavar Bolton made her want to puke.

"You need to talk to him Lydia." Imra told her. "Set him straight."

"Like you could say something bad about him." Lydia said. Imra never said a bad thing about anyone. She believed in the good in most people. Optimistic. Hopeful. Naive.

"Kick him to the curb." Lauren Durge said. At times Lauren was bright and bubbly. Other times she was hardworking and serious. And sometimes she was cynical and sarcastic. It was as if the girl had three different personalities, which would fit well with her hair style, which might've been red, or blonde, or brown. No one could tell. "You deserve better than that slime bucket."

"Is that such a good idea?" Sally Digsby asked. "From what you've said he's a real jerk." Sally was what one would call the brains of the group. Born from Australian and British parents, Sally felt a bit uncomfortable when she went to school in the city. Her parents gave her a choice between a prestigious private school in Australia, Greenwich Private College, or a school in a New York. Sally chose New York, simply because it was closer, but she still felt uncomfortable, until she met Imra and her friends. While she rarely ventured out of her shell, she could be bubbly and joyful just like Lauren, without encouraged, and she had a cute giggle that ended with a snort some times. Around Imra she felt comfortable to be herself.

"Ah, who cares?" Tina Wallace asked. "The guy's a creep. Besides, that would make him fair game." She grinned.

"Tina! You wouldn't honestly go out with this guy, would you?" Imra asked. Tina Wallace was sugar and spice, fire and ice. Sleek black hair like a raven and grey eyes like steel pearls, she liked to walk on the wild side, live life. She was a fellow rich girl like Imra, but she felt nothing bad about it. She loved it. A little spoiled, but a good girl willing to stick up for her friend.

"Who, me? Nah. Too boring." Tina explained, before she got a manipulative grin. "Why? Interested Miss Milkmaid?" Imra blushed madly.

"N-no! Of course not." She clutched at her pendant. "He isn't my type."

"Ugh no one is your type!" Tina exclaimed. "When are we gonna find you a guy?" Tina asked.

"A smart guy." Sally thought.

"A funny guy." Lauren said.

"A wild guy." Tina finished.

"Now now, Imra will find a man when she finds a man." This was Candi speaking. Candi Pypnote Le-Parc III. An heiress like Tina and Imra, Candi was also the tallest and more statuesque, with curves in the right place. She often played the role of the big sister. "She's just waiting for that special gentleman."

"And who says I need a man?" Imra asked.

"You've gotta be kidding!" Tina said. "I couldn't live without men!"

"We really couldn't. Without men the species can't continue." Sally explained. "And besides," Sally eyed Tina, "didn't you just broke up with what's-his-name?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Tina folded her arms defiantly and hung her nose in the air.

"Things didn't work out with Joe?" Imra asked.

"I just needed my personal space for the moment."

"D to the U to M, P, D." Lauren whispered to Lydia.

"Lies!" Tina yelled. "I broke up with him. The jerk." She muttered the last bit.

"You want to talk about it?" Imra asked, always lending an ear.

"Ancient history. I wanna hear about YOUR love life."

"I want one, believe me." Imra rolled her eyes. "But most guys are either jerks or like Lavar. What happened to chivalry?"

"Not every guy is as perfect as you are, Imra." Tina said.

"You should be more careful Imra!" Nora Nelson warned. "I read your horoscope today. It said to be careful around gentlemen." The other shook their heads. Nora had platinum blonde hair that flipped at the ends, no matter how much she tried to fix it. She was an air head, up in the clouds with her feet having to be tied down. She wore rings on her fingers and made her day by whatever her horoscope warned her. With the size of her imagination it was understandable. She believed in ghosts and spirits and always followed her horoscope, even when it was wrong.

"Didn't it also say yesterday that rain was ill omen?" Imra asked. "It rained, and nothing bad happened." Nora thought about it for a minute. She hated it when they didn't take her seriously. "That was Tina's horoscope." Nora explained. Tina gulped.

"You broke up with Joe yesterday, didn't you?" Imra asked. Tina nodded.

"You see?" Nora asked.

"Uh-oh." Tina moaned. Someone came in.

"What?" Imra asked.

"My wonderful mood just flew out of the window." Everyone turned around. Officer Sean Erin, father to their classmate and friend Shawnee Erin, entered the foyer.

"Evenin', Miss Wallace. Girls."

"Good evening, Officer Erin." Uh-oh. They knew what this meant.

"Now, Miss Wallace, I know you love your mother very mu-"

"That depends. What has she been protesting _this_ time?" Tina sighed in exaspiration. It was admirable, the work that her mother did, but being arrested so many times made it look pointless. Officer Erin scratched the back of his head.

"Well, it seems your mother an' some a' her lady friends broke inta Roland Daggett's make-up plant."

"Oh I love his brand!" Lauren said. "I'm wearing Daggett lipstick and rouge." Candi giggled.

"I am too."

"Yes, well, Mrs. Wallace is currently boycottin' their testin' animals with their stuff. Rabbits and hamsters and monkeys and all manners of God's creatures."

Lauren paled. So did Candi. The two looked at one another with horrified expressions.

"You mean..." Lauren started.

"This has been tested on innocent bunny rabbits and cute little monkeys?" Candi finished. They felt sick. They looked it, because they knew what happened to test animals. Before anyone could say anything else, the two ran for the nearest bathroom and tried to scrub out the make-up on their faces.

"IT'S NOT COMING OFF!"

"SCRUB HARDER!"

"I'M TRYING! DON'T THEY MAKE WATER HOTTER THAN THIS?!"

"IT'S BURNED INTO MY SKIN!"

Sally and Nora ran into the bathroom to make sure the two wouldn't scrub their faces off, while Lydia just shook her head.

"Without animal testing, how can we learn if certain medications won't have hazardous affects?"

"That's easy for you to say! You're not the one wearing lipstick that probably killed some poor bunny!" Lauren cried.

"So, what are my mother's demands?" Tina rubbed her temples. She knew the routine.

"Well we tried ta talk her down but, well..."

"What?" Tina leaned in.

"She, she has a whip."

They were out there in five seconds.

"You couldn't talk her down from the building?!" Tina cried as she ran.

"Well I managed to talk her inta putting her clothes back on!"

Imra waved goodbye on the church steps as they raced off. She looked up. It was getting dark. It had been so sunny. Fall was on the way. This would especially be bad for everyone out there who didn't have a home.

"Miss Imra!"

She looked up. On the curb was Brock, inside one of her stepmother's cars. He waved to her from the window. She ran up to him, completely surprised.

"Brock!" She kissed him on the cheek. Brock was like her older brother. Nice and sweet, and definetly older. She trusted him. He put up with Eve and didn't complain, so he was a good guy. "What are you doing here?"

"Your stepmother asked me to pick you up." He said.

"Really?" She replied, very surprised, and confused by the melancholy look on his face. "That was nice of her."

"Yes." He replied, averting her gaze. "But, I have to run an errand first. Do you mind a pit stop?"

"No. Not at all." She smiled. He felt his soul vomit.

The ride was long, and silent. Imra tried to start a conversation, but Brock was hesitant. VERY hesitant. She asked him how his day was, how Michelle was (Michelle was Nora's older sister, actually), but he was very quiet. Brock answered that he wasn't feeling well. Imra tapped her pendant. Finally, the car stopped.

"We're here."

Imra looked out the window. This was a part of New York she wasn't familiar with. Truth be told, she only spent so much time in the city since she graduated high school. She still wasn't familiar with every bit of Manhattan.

"Um, Miss Arden, I don't want to bother you anymore then I already have, but, I could use your help." Brock said. "I'm not comfortable leaving you alone. Would you...?"

"Sure thing." Imra replied, and got out. So trusting, Brock saw. So stupid. She didn't see the axe in the front seat.

Imra looked around. She could hear sirens. Steam was rising out of the sewer. What they could possibly have to do here was beyond her, but she trusted Brock, enough to ask him a question.

"Brock, what do you think of my stepmother?" She asked.

"What do I think of her?" He got out, coat closed.

"Well you're around her a lot." Imra said.

"I have to. It's my job."

"Well, you must get a better impression of her then I do. I really don't spend that much time to get to know her." Imra sighed.

"I can say I'm somewhat indifferent about her. She's a hard woman to like." Brock faced her.

"Well, my father loved her, so she can't be all bad." Imra said.

"You would be surprised." Brock answered. Imra turned to get a better look at the end of the alley. There was a butcher shop across the street. Brock's hands shook.

"It's okay with you to be honest with me about her." Imra said.

"Well," Brock explained, as he opened his coat, "what do you think of her?"

"Me?" Imra asked. "Well..." she walked up to get a better look at some of the graffiti and posters on the brick wall. "I think she's a sad person. She spends all her time looking in mirrors, I think she misses out on a lot."

_May God forgive me..._

The metal axe gleamed in the air. Brock's eyes began to tear, he raised it above his head and aimed at Imra. Imra felt stiff.

"She's lucky to have someone like you looking out for her." Imra's eyes caught a glimpse of something, a flash of silver in the corner of her eye. "She-" Imra stopped when she saw the axe. Her face became a mixture of horror and confusion.

"Brock! What are you-?!"

"I, I-"

"Brock?!"

He saw the teror in her eyes as she backed up against the wall, frozen like a sheep. The axe shook. He thought of Michelle. He thought of Eve. He thought of his Imra. He thought of his soul. Imra closed her eyes, unable to move and waiting for it to end.

"I CAN'T!"

He tossed the axe away and sunk to his knees, sobbing.

"Oh God, I'm sorry." He wept. "I'm sorry please I'm sorry forgive me I didn't want to-"

"Brock why?!" Imra yelled, she tried to get him to look her in the face. "Why did you-I don't understand?"

"It wasn't me, Miss Arden, I swear. It was your stepmother." His face was drenched. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! She made me!"

"Eve? But, why?" Imra's heart skipped.

"Listen to me, girl." He grabbed her shoulders. "She's insane. She's jealous of you. She thinks you're beautiful than her. Out of the way." He tried to stop sobbing.

"I knew she was vain, but..." Imra still couldn't believe it.

"She won't be happy until you're dead and buried. Her vanity has consumed whatever soul she had. She spends all her time talking to that antique mirror, like it talks back to her!"

Imra knew what Brock was talking about. She hated that mirror.

"The police." Imra said. "We have to go to the-"

"NO!" Brock yelled. "You don't know how powerful she is. She has connections everywhere! She said if I didn't do it she'd get someone else to do it for her. She, she threatened my Michelle." Brock gasped for air. "Listen to me. You have to run. Run away."

Imra was still processing that her stepmother tried to have her chopped up with an axe.

"With who? I don't have any other fami-"

"No. No family. Or friends. She needs to think you're dead. Until it's safe." Would it ever be safe. "She won't stop. She wanted proof. Your heart bloody in box. She's a beast of neverending hunger. Go. Go now!"

Imra saw the fear in his eyes. Just how powerful was Eve? She got up, and ran, ran out of the alley.

"Go! Run! RUN! WHERE SHE CAN NEVER FIND YOU! GO!" He screamed as she left the alley. But if she was as powerful as he said, where could she run. She looked around. So many strange people surrounding her. Buildings she didn't recognize. She thought she would die from fright.

And so, the Belle of New York ran, lost and lonely, in the big city, as someone out there planned to have her heart on a platter.

To Be Continued...


	4. The Mirror Part II

Disclaimer: Characters owned by DC Comics.

Wow, another long delay. Sorry to keep you guys waiting. I actually cut out the part where Imra shows up at the seven's apartment. That'll be in the next chapter. Sorry again if my rhyming sucks.

* * *

_Cautionary Tales: The Mirror - Part II_

Imra Arden ran. She ran, and ran, and ran. But she felt she would never get far enough. Just minutes ago, Brock Conway, the gentlest man she had ever known besides her father, had almost chopped her head off with an axe. At the behest of her stepmother, Eve Aries, vanity personified, insanity fulfilled.

_Why? Why? Why now?_

She must've snapped. Eve's mind must've snapped. That's the only reason. Or, or maybe Eve was biding her time, waiting until Imra got older. As she understood, her father left her a hefty sum, all of it, when Imra became of a certain age. There was always something about Eve that Imra didn't like, but murder? She didn't think she was capable of murder.

"Oh God…" she huffed as she ran. But what was the point? When would she reach her destination? What WAS her destination?

_Far, far away…_

Imra looked around as she tried to gather her thoughts. Cars honked and the drivers cursed at one another. Babies were crying, people were arguing in their apartments. People huddled asking for food and begging for money. Winos sulking in front of liquor stores. Prostitutes on street corners and near newspaper vendors.

"Watch it!"

"Shove off!"

"I'm walkin' here!"

"Lookin' for a good time?"

"Where's my money?"

"Why can't you have dinner on the table when I come home?"

"You lousy good for nothing-!"

"Son of a-"

"Piece of-"

"Mother-"

All the sights, the sounds, was THIS the New York she had been trying to save? She tried to cover her ears as tears fell from her eyes.

"WATCH IT!"

Before she knew she had been shoved out of the way by an irate passerby, which caused Imra to collide with another innocent bystander.

"Aah!"

"Oof!"

They hit the concrete like a sack of potatoes. Imra moaned, her head spinning and eyes whirling, dizzy. Still contemplating what had happened.

"Sorry 'bout that." The person she had toppled had just said as he straightened out. "Are you all…"

He stopped when he saw her.

"Right." He gasped.

She shook her head. Through her tears she saw his eyes.

_Blue. So blue._

_Marry me._ Those were his thoughts.

Imra was blushing. He was blushing with her. She caught sight of red hair. On his head and under his chin. Blue eyes. Bright and frightening, like summer electricity. Then, she remembered what had happened.

"I, I am fine." She stuttered as she got up. "Ex, excuse me. I'm so sorry." Imra apologized.

"Wait, miss." He grabbed her arm, not hard, but it startled her just the same.

"Please! Excuse me!" She yelled, and ran back off before he could say another thing.

"But miss I-"

"Let go!" She yelled, and ran off. No one bothered to turn their heads from what they were doing.

"Wait! Miss! You-"

Too late. She was lost in the crowd. He stood their dumbfounded.

"You dropped your necklace." He tried to finish, now only to himself.

He held the chain to his eyes. It glittered in the streetlight. Imra kept running, pushing past all the people in her way. No thought. No consideration. Only action. Fear. Tears. Finally, she tripped on the sidewalk, and went tumbling. That was it.

"Watch it!" Someone screamed at her.

"Geez! Kids today…" Another said.

Imra kept her gaze on the filthy concrete, a bruise forming on her knee. Skin scraped and bleeding through her blouse. She couldn't take it. Too much to handle all at once. She just stayed there, on her knees, weak and scared. Someone noticed.

"Excuse me. Imra? Imra Arden, is that you?"

_That voice._

She looked up to a helping hand.

…

"I'm home! Alice? Ally? Hey, little sis, where are-?"

"GERONIMO!" A voice from above exclaimed.

"Aah! Ally!"

Alice "Ally" Raines had just jumped on her older brother's, Garth's, back. She was an average-sized child with auburn down to her shoulders and green eyes with the complexion of a girl who had spent some of time growing up on a farm in Virginia. Garth was much bigger than her, he was nearly in his twenties, a beefy Virginian farmboy with the same red hair but blue eyes. Red hair ran in the Raines Family, although their older brother Michael had not inherited it.

The two were living inside of a two-story house currently owned by their maternal aunt, Lila Shooter. Lila's sister, Pearl, and her brother-in-law, Luke, had died some years before.

"Hiya, Garth. Didja get it?" She asked him.

"Ally how many times have I told you NOT to do that! It's not safe!" He scolded her as he put her down off his back.

"Aww but Garth-" Ally moaned.

"No buts, little sis. This isn't the farm. There's no hay for you to fall in and cushion the fall. You could get really hurt." Garth told with the all concern of a big brother.

"Hmph." Ally muttered.

"Now come on, how 'bout a hug for your big brother?"

"No way, you're no fun." Ally complained. Garth rolled his eyes.

"Oh, but I suppose going to hospital would be fun, wouldn't it? And having all those doctors poke you with needles." He said with a sinister look of glee in his eyes and voice. Ally went white. She hated needles.

"They wouldn't-!" She cried.

"You better believe they would." Garth said.

"Eeep!"

She hugged her brother.

"I missed you." Ally said, glad he was home.

"I missed you too. Did Aunt Lila come home yet?" Garth asked as the two adjourned to the living room.

"No. She's still visiting Mikey at the asylum." Ally explained.

"Oh." Garth replied as he sat down on the couch.

"Didja get it?" Ally asked again.

"Did you do your homework yet?" Garth questioned her before opening his bag.

"Did you do yours?" Ally questioned back.

"I'm about to, right after I get something to eat." He told her.

"You're always eating."

"I didn't have lunch! And anyway, here." He pulled out a magazine from his bag and handed it to her.

"Yay!" She cheered, and victoriously held up the newest issue of _The Shadow_. Ally turned the pages and dreamily stared at the main character.

"Oh Lamont Cranston, what do you see in that Margo Lane?"

"He's not real Ally." Garth reminded her.

"Yes he is. I heard on the news that the police saw a guy wearing a coat and a fedora shadowing his face fleeing from the scene of a crime."

"That's the Sandman, not the Shadow." Garth clarified.

"You never know." Ally wondered aloud. Suddenly, she caught sight of something glittery as Garth pulled a necklace out of his pocket.

"Oh, is that for me?" Ally asked, staring at the pretty trinket with the pink stone.

"No, some… lady bumped into me on the street and dropped it. She looked really scared. I couldn't get a chance to give it back to her." Garth recounted his meeting with the girl on the street.

"What did she look like?" Ally asked.

"Oh, you know, she had long blond hair, smooth white skin kind of like a china doll, and blue eyes." Garth explained, with a faraway look twinkling in his eyes. "They, they kind of looked like the sky in the middle of the day when there isn't a cloud anywhere, and the sky can just go on and on…" He trailed off, looking into empty space.

"It's pretty." Ally asked, holding it in her hands.

"Yeah, she was." Garth absent-mindfully answered.

"She?" Ally aksed.

"Uh, I mean-"

From the way her older brother stammered and the red on his cheeks, Ally scrunched up her face in disgust.

"Eeeeew! My brother has a crush!" Ally shouted.

"I do not!" Garth told her.

"You do too!"

"Do not!"

"Do too!"

"I don't even know her name!" Garth explained. Ally shook her head.

"I don't care, I'm not letting some two-bit floozy steal my brother from me." She told him, grabbing his head and holding onto it with dear life.

"Ally, come on. You know nobody's gonna steal me. I'll probably never see her again. Still…" He trailed off again as Ally let go of him. "I wish I knew where I could drop this necklace off. It's probably an antique."

"Why don't you go to the police?" Ally asked, setting it down on the coffee table, on top of today's paper, when something caught her eye.

"They'll probably think I stole it." Garth told her.

"Um, Garth, you said she had long blonde hair?" Ally asked.

"Uh-huh." He replied.

"Like this?"

She held up the newspaper in front of her brother's face. His jaw dropped. There she was, on the front page, and it was none other than Miss Imra Arden herself.

"No way! Lemme see that." He snatched the paper out of his sister's hands.

"Hey!"

There she was, right there on the paper in black and white.

_Imra Arden. I bumped into THE Imra Arden._

He couldn't get her out of his head. He'd never seen her before. And now he'd just learn she was one of the most rich and famous girls in all of New York. A girl who was probably too good for him, a farm boy from Virginia.

And he was in love with her.

…

Meanwhile, much later at night, in another part of town, seven young men have now returned to their humble abode.

"I CAN'T believe we had to leave early. Just when I was finally starting to get a tan. Dad's gonna be pissed."

"Hey, don't look at me. The child genius over here's the one who blew up the hotel."

"I did NOT blow up the hotel, and it was not my fault. If Charles and Rhett had not interfered with my experiment-"

"Oh you mean the one the manager told you NOT to do? SEVEN TIMES? That experiment."

"Hey, you can't blame me! I have a big curiosity."

"You've got a big ass is what you've got."

"Brian, knock it off. No one's in the mood for the surly mountain man bit. Gotta remember to call Yera and Ma."

"'Surly mountain man'?"

"Everyone, enough! We're home now, we're in one piece, and that's what's-"

Richard 'Rocky' Crane stopped in mid-sentence when he realized that, underneath the door he shared with six others, was on, in the dark hallway.

"Did we leave the lights on?" Rocky asked them.

"I made sure to check twice before we left." The blond, somewhat pale-skinned and short genius Earl Docks explained.

Rocky unlocked the door and the seven walked in.

"Holy-"

Rocky Crane, Brian Landon, Earl Docks, Tom Caliori, Rhett Brande, Chuck Taine, and Jim Allen had just walked into what had to be the cleanest living room they had even seen. The seven of them lived in a two-floor apartment above the night club owned by Rhett's father, R.J. Brande.

Rocky was the definition of an all-American boy, with black hair and blue eyes and the frame of an athlete who could excel in any sport he tried.

Earl was small and thin, his skin pale from all the time he spent working in his own little lab, reading, or studying. He was a young genius.

Tom was of African and Italian American descent, of course no one noticed because they believed his skin tone came from his father. He enjoyed reading those pulp fiction magazines everybody seems to be publishing.

Chuck Taine was something of the everyman of the group, average height with black hair, blue eyes, and was fat, or in his words, 'well-fed'. He was studying to be a mechanic.

Brian Landon was built like a mountain man indeed, with arms that could snap a bear's neck and a well-toned stomach. He was very surly and grumpy, with both a beard and a ponytail. He was often called wolfman because of how hairy he was.

Rhett was the smallest and youngest of the group, with brown hair and green eyes. He was also filthy, stinking rich, but had to work for everything because he father refused to let him be spoiled.

Jim was the tallest of the group, from a family of Jewish-Americans, and considered by the others to be the luckiest. He was currently dating a woman who was four years older than him, a beautiful singer/actress named Yera, of Arabic descent. She sang at the club.

It is too early to explain what brought these men together, for we're now focusing on the shock they've just received.

The apartment was spotless. Or rather, the living room was. No dust. No cobwebs. No food left out or glasses half empty. Lamp shades in their proper positions. Windows clean and looking out into the city. Clothes folded. Pillows on the couch and seats straightened. Nothing hanging on door knobs. Umbrellas in their holder and books in their shelves. It was near Godlike.

Something was very, very, VERY wrong.

"Someone has been in here." Rocky stated, breaking the silence.

"No s#!t, Sherlock." Brain replied.

"Yes, but the question is, who?" Earl questioned.

"Maybe Dad let the cleaning lady in again." Rhett asked as the seven began inspecting for any stolen objects.

The seven looked in every nook and cranny of the living room before going anywhere else. But, nothing seemed to be missing. Everything was where it was supposed to be.

"No way. I distinctly remember her saying she wouldn't go anywhere NEAR this place after she saw under Chuck's bed." Tom told them.

"Hey, I told you guys if I could find that milk I'd have cleaned it up." Chuck said in defense.

"Oh wow, I've been looking for this issue of Timely Comics everywhere!" Tom happily shouted, picking up his lost issue of Timely Comics and hugging it. Earl sighed.

"Thomas, those trash novels will rot your brain." Earl told him.

"They aren't trash! They're a new form of art!" Tom defended.

"Yes, like your 'Starman' creation?" Earl asked.

"Hey, when did this place have a floor?" Rhett asked, marveling at the wooden floor before his feet. The others looked down. It had been so long since the floor was bare they forgot what it looked like.

"Hi, Yera? Hey baby, we came back early…" Jim spoke, talking into the phone.

"He's honestly talking to his girlfriend in a time like this?" Earl asked. "We might have been robbed and all he can think about is his Arabic goddess."

"I don't THINK so, Earl. I mean, it doesn't look like anything's been taken. In fact, I just found the textbook Chuck lost last month." Rick explained as he held up a red textbook.

"And I already bought a new one. Great." Chuck moaned.

"You need to organize your stuff better, Chuck." Rick lectured.

"Well, we can't ALL be the golden boy, Rick." Chuck said.

"If he was really the golden boy coming home to a clean place wouldn't make us think we were robbed." Rhett said.

"And as I've told you boys I'm not the maid. We all live here and we should all do our fair share of cleaning." Rick explained for what was the millionth time.

"WHAT THE-?" Brian screamed from out of the room. The six boys rushed into the kitchen to see what was wrong.

"Brian, what is it?" Rick asked.

Brian was grasping the counter top with both hands digging into it. It looked like he was about to crack the countertop and the sink. He slowly turned his head with a look in his eyes that screamed bloody murder.

"Someone. Has been. In. My. Kitchen." He growled.

The place was just as spotless as the living room. Pots, pans, dishes, and glasses freshly cleaned, stacked, organized, and put away. The contents of the fridge had been organized and straightened up. The spices and condiments alphabetized. There was a garbage bag filled with rotten and moldy food. The smell of lemony soap wafted in the air.

Brian looked as if both his eyes were going to pop out of his head and splatter against the wall like ripe tomatoes. He gritted his teeth in a way that fueled some of the boys' belief that he had fangs like a wolf. He looked like he was going to huff, and puff, and blow the building down.

"C-calm down, wolfman," Thomas stuttered, "it doesn't-"

"IN! MY! KITCHEN!" Brian bellowed at the top of his lungs, causing the other five boys to hide behind Rick. Even Jim, who was the tallest.

Amidst his screaming, Brian's ears seemed to pick something up.

"What was that?" He asked.

"W-what was what?" Rhett asked.

Everyone remained silent, and then, Rick heard it too. Faint, delicate snoring.

"It came from upstairs." Rick said.

The seven boys rushed back into the living room. They all huddled around the stairway leading up to the darkened, second floor of the apartment. They looked up to pitch black, but they could still hear it.

"Oh crap the burglar's still here!" Rhett shouted.

"It's likely that we interrupted him in the midst of his round of larceny." Earl explained.

"Then WHY does it sound like snoring?" Jim asked.

"What kind of burglar takes a nap?" Thomas asked.

"A cat burglar?" Chuck asked.

Everyone shot him a dirty look.

"What? Cat burglar, cat nap, you guys set that one up!" Chuck said.

Then, it stopped.

"Oh man, guys, I think the cat burglar left." Thomas said.

"I don't care what kind it is I'll kill him!" Brian snarled. "I heard somewhere that when somebody breaks into your house, anything you do to him is nice and legal."

"What if he's armed?" Jim asked.

"Then send fat boy." Brian motioned to Chuck.

"Hey!" Chuck said, shooting Brian a dirty look. "Why me? Why do I have to die?"

"Cuz, you're the one with the built-in protection." Brian noted as he poked Chuck's ample belly. Chuck swatted Brian's hand away.

"Why not Rhett? He's the smallest and the quickest!" Chuck motioned to Rhett.

"But I've got so much to live for! Like my trust fund! And Earl's the smallest!" Rhett said, pointing to the genius in their midst.

"True, but that does not mean I will play the role of the sacrificial lamb. Send Thomas up."

"Me?" Thomas gasped.

"Surely you must have picked up SOME defensive maneuvers from those pulp novels of yours." Earl rationalized.

"Hey, you can't badmouth them one second and then use them as an excuse for me to go up their and get my head blown off."

"I'm willing to play devil's advocate." Earl explained.

"Do you guys realize we're standing here, arguing about which one of us will probably die?" Jim quizzed. They turned to Jim.

"Then send Jim up, he's the tallest." Earl told Thomas.

"I would, but Rick went up there three minutes ago." Jim explained.

"WHAT?" The other five exclaimed, looking up the stairway. The hall light clicked on.

"Guys, it's okay!" Rick called from the upper floor. "I found the burglar."

The six exchanged looks before running up the stairs.

"No way!" Rhett said.

"He's still here? What kind of burglar doesn't leave when the people he's robbing come home?" Earl asked.

"The kind that's gonna get his teeth kicked in, that's what." Brian muttered, cracking his knuckles.

Richard was standing in front of Brian's room, with a somewhat amused, somewhat bemused look on his face.

"Uh, I don't think she's a burglar." Rick said.

"Wait. You said…" Thomas trailed off as the other six stuck their heads in Brain's room. There, amid his messy room with the plaid flannel quilt, slept Imra Arden, looking more like Sleeping Beauty than Snow White.

The seven boys gathered around her.

"Whoa." Rhett breathed.

"She's beautiful." Chuck whispered.

"She seems familiar." Earl whispered.

"She looks like she's been crying." Rick whispered.

"But why?" Thomas whispered.

"What's she doing here?" Jim whispered.

"And WHY is she sleeping in my bed?" Brain said, not lowering his voice.

They all turned their gaze to Brian, giving him half incredulous/half annoyed looks.

"What?" He asked.

…

Eve sighed as she laid back in her exquisite marble tub. Built into the floor of her bathroom, it resembled more like the type of pool you would find in a rendition of the Roman Empire. Bubbles floated around everywhere atop the water, and there were vials, jars, bottles, and tubs of all her beauty products. Lotions, potions, creams, rubs, salts, soaps, shampoos, conditioners, and moisturizers.

Eve's eyes were closed as she inhaled the warmth coming from the water, her hair held up to avoid getting wet. Beside her, on the bath floor, was an open bottle of champagne, a glass half-empty, and a wooden box.

She reached over and lifted the box to her head, water dripping from her arms as she did. She opened the box.

"Oh, just look at you…"

She cooed to the bloody, cold heart inside.

Some time later, after the cold Mrs. Arden dried off, facial cream applied to ward off any unsightly crow's feet or wrinkles, she stood in front of her mirror, and asked the age old question.

"Mirror, mirror, tell me do, tell your mistress, tell her true. Answer me, obey my call, who is the fairest one of all?"

The face in the mirror returned once more.

_"An inferno of red undone by the dawn's light."  
"Your stepdaughter is fairest, her existence your blight."_

"Hmm. You're getting a bit sloppy." Eve replied, slightly amused. "Imra is dead. And here's the proof." She held up the box to show the bloody organ inside.

_"That heart came from no human, but from the remains of a boar."  
"Tis a pig's heart you hold, radiant fool, and nothing more."_

Eve's amused smile slowly dropped.

"What?" She asked through gritted teeth. "This is a pig's heart?"

_"Indeed, my queen, and might I say,"  
"Through your manservant, you've been played."_

"That little bastard! He thought he could pull a fast one on me?" Eve screamed.

In such anger, she tossed the box at a mirror in the far left corner of the room.

"On ME?" She repeated.

SMASH!

Broken glass and splintered wood, covered in blood and shredded skin, littered the floor.

"Where is he?" Eve screeched at the mirror. "No, no I'll deal with Brock later. First, where's the brat hiding?"

_"Far in the city, in a dwelling most grand."  
"Above a hall for all to come, owned by one named Brande."  
"She sleeps now, surrounded by seven young men."  
"They wonder who she is, how she got there, and when."_

"Oh, really?" Eve asked, her right eyebrow raised. "Very well, then."

Eve walked over to her night table, walking with poise and grace that was lacking in the shrieking harpy of a woman she had just been a few seconds ago, and picked up a telephone.

"I think it's time to call in a professional." She spoke as she dialed a number on the phone and held it up to her face. "Hello, may I please speak to Tyson? This is Aeries, tell him I'm calling in some of the favors he and his associates owe me."

Eve waited a few seconds as the call continued to go through.

"Hello, is this-what? What do you mean he can't speak? Well when did that happen? Really, I hadn't heard. So then, tell him I needed him to take care of this little bitch."

The person on the other end asked for the details.

"…No, it's just one girl." Eve explained.

The person on the other end asked for Eve's specifications on what she wanted done.

"No, I don't want her missing. I want her dead. And by dead, I mean dead as dirt." Eve clarified.

The person on the other end asked how she wanted it done.

"I can choose? Well, I don't know, I just want her dead. Whatever he would prefer." Eve told him.

The person on the other end explained what they were going to do to.

"Hmm, yes, fine, strangulation it is then. I'll come by tomorrow for more details. I don't prefer talking about this kind of thing over the phone."

CLICK.

Eve hung the phone up. She then picked up a small hand mirror and began to check her face for any new lines or wrinkles/

"The one good thing my father ever did was dealing with that man." Eve spoke into the small mirror before she turned her gaze to the mirror in the center of the room.

"And you…", she spoke to the magic mirror, "I want surveillance on her 24-7. If she so much as blinks funny I want to be told. Got it?"

"Good." She turned her eyes back to the small hand mirror and gasped. "Oh look at what you've done, Eve, you've smeared your facial cream. That girl will be the death of me yet."

To Be Continued: The Mirror - Part III


End file.
